Howl
by Altocat
Summary: After finally giving in to madness, Harley Quinn vows revenge on Batman. Chaos ensues.  Sequel to Until We Bleed. Reviews greatly appreciated.
1. The Harlequin

The moon was unusually pretty tonight.

Her red coat blowing wildly in the breeze, she perched atop the roof of the hideout, staring into the depths of the night.

Two days.

Two days since she had broken her Mr. J out of Arkham Asylum. Two days after finally succeeding to move Mr. J and her group of henchmen into a new location away from the GCPD. Two days since she left the shadow of Dr. Harleen Quinzel behind.

Harleen Quinzel was no longer part of who she was. She had been a mask, an identity that she no longer desired to possess. She didn't care that she was now a wanted criminal…didn't care that everyone in Gotham was on the lookout for her in order to imprison her in the very asylum she had worked at. She was Harley Quinn—loyal follower of the Joker, his little harlequin, his main squeeze. That was her new identity.

Tilting her head slightly, she could hear the henchmen arguing in the hideout below—Cutter in his usual wise, mature fashion, Poke chuckling like a maniac, and the cousins (Rocco and Henshaw) talking over them in unison.

Poor Mr. J was still greatly injured from his last confrontation with the Batman. His right arm was broken and so was his left leg. For two days, she had tended to his every need, trying her best to make him comfortable. He would sleep the day away, mumbling under his breath in pained, delirious slumber. She suspected that he would be like this for a few more weeks—at least long enough before the bones began to heal.

It made her blood boil when she thought about the fiend who had done this to him.

_Batman…_

The Batman, the enemy of her Mr. J, Gotham's dear dark knight. How she hated him! She remembered the sight of Mr. J being dragged to the Arkham Asylum medical wing, bruised and bleeding from his encounter with the detestable flying rodent. She had felt her mind snap, had felt the full presence of Harley Quinn right then and there. In a way, perhaps she should be thanking the Batman for finally giving her the push she needed to finally become free. But then again…now her beloved Puddin' was sick and hurt and confined to the bed and wouldn't be getting up in the near future.

And it was for that reason that she decided that it was time to end it all. The Bat would not do this to her Joker ever again. She'd kill him for what he did. She'd see to it that Mr. J would no longer have to worry about the dreadful Bat ever again.

But what to do? Plan?

Her Mr. J had always been against making plans, but she supposed that killing the Batman called for it. Just how would she do it then?

She had to encounter him first, of course. She had not yet gotten a chance to have her first fight with the caped crusader. So she'd try him out-find out what made him tick, try to discover any weak points he might possess. After all, had she not been a shrink?

Giggling softly in the darkness, she tilted back her head and grinned up at the black night sky.

She needed some time. She needed to show Gotham who she really was before she started anything. The people of Gotham needed to hear Mr. J's messages despite his absence. And she was the perfect person to spread them. She'd be his mouthpiece to the people, an agent for the agent-of-chaos. She'd make them all see the folly of their mundane, rule-ridden lives and then she'd deprive them of their Batman.

_Just wait a few more days. Then get things started. Oh, Puddin', you'll be so proud!_

She knew he would be. With the Batman disposed of, they could finally rule all of Gotham together. United, they would make all of Gotham finally realize the joke of life and take down anyone who tried to stop them.

For the time being, she'd be patient. She'd plan and ready the henchmen for when they'd make their first attack on the city. Until then, she'd look after Mr. J and try to get his wounds and broken bones healed faster.

The harlequin took out a card from the pocket of her coat, holding it up and staring at it under the silver glow of the moon. A joker card. There were always two in every deck.

_You'll see, Mr. J…we shall win this war! The Batman shall die!_

And the night seemed to grow blacker.


	2. Shadowlands

Cutter pressed an ear against the door and listened to the sound of Harley's voice murmuring softly to her unconscious lover. Though he had no idea what she was saying, he felt that her voice gave him a sense of tranquility...even if the sound was not directed at him.

Harley had really impressed him the past few days with her ability to think on her feet. If it hadn't been for her moving them into this new warehouse hideout, they would have surely been captured by the police. Though he didn't much care for the place, Cutter was glad just to have a roof over their heads for the time being.

Growing bored with Harley's whisperings, Cutter strode into the main area and dug around his pockets for a cigarette. In quiet times like this, it was always the best time for a smoke. Pulling out a cigarette, he fumbled around his pockets some more for a lighter, but found that he was without one.

"Need a light?" Poke stepped out of the gloom and grinned, holding out his prized lighter.

"Thanks," Cutter said as he lit his cigarette and began to puff.

"She with the boss again?"

"Yeah. She's been with him for almost an hour now."

"Poor boss. Methinks he won't get up until a few more days. Plus, it'll take a while before he's fully recovered. What a pity."

"Looks like Harley is now in charge."

Poke nodded, almost chuckling to himself. "I never thought I'd see the day when she'd become assertive enough to give orders. Remember how she used to be?"

"She's changed."

"Oh well," Poke said with a shrug. "Actually, I kind of like this new change of plans. That new look in her eyes…it excites the hell out of me. Maybe she'll be just as good as the boss. Did she tell you that she's planning an attack on Gotham soon? It's going to be glorious! She even said that she'd let me burn some stuff!"

In spite of Poke's enthusiasm, Cutter didn't feel terribly excited. Yes, he had heard about Harley's plan. It troubled him. The boss had never liked planning for things and Cutter was pretty sure that the Batman was more than an enemy to the boss. Still, he'd keep quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was to anger Harley.

"What's wrong, Cutter? You look kind of pale. You feeling sick?"

"No. I'm just feeling a bit out of it. I'm going to go outside and get some fresh air."

"Better keep close to the hideout. If there are cops lurking about, they might recognize you."

Cutter treaded away, keeping his cigarette in his mouth. "I know. No need to worry, Poke."

He stepped out into the night, shuddering slightly from the cold wind. For a while, he just stood there, puffing smoke-rings into the air and watching them as they faded into the murky horizon.

_Gotham City. My home. _

He had lived in this city all his life. Ever since he was a very young boy. And despite his childish view of the place at the time, he now understood the truth about it. Gotham was not a city…it was a land of darkness…an endless river that flowed from the mouth of madness and grief. He knew; he had lost his daughter to it.

_Funny. With the boss back out and Harley now a permanent part of the crew, I guess I should be feeling happy. Why is it that I'm not?_

Harley's change had bothered him. It was as if in breaking away from the system of Gotham City, she had fed it, made it more tainted than before. And while he still cared about her greatly, Cutter felt himself missing the lost, timid woman he had used to know.

But the new Harley had some pretty endearing qualities, of course. She was more childish than ever for one thing. When she wasn't looking after the boss or discussing plans with them, she was singing to herself or playing with her stuffed rabbit, Sammy. It was cute in an unnatural sort of way. It made him forget about the discomforting fearsome glare that lingered in those baby-blue eyes of hers.

Sometimes, he was puzzled with the whole thing altogether. What made Harley react as strongly as she did for the boss? True, the boss was a powerful awe-inspiring man, but he also was Gotham's most-feared criminal and the one who had kidnapped her. So to see the way she cooed at him, the way she kissed and caressed his sweaty locks baffled Cutter. Never, in all his life, had he seen a person love another person this much.

But that's what he got for living in Gotham his whole life. It had become unnatural to see love at its fullest. Gotham was all work and no play…a haven where the prim and proper got together with one another solely for the purpose of common interests or ambitions. Was that the real reason why the authorities were now after Harley? Did they see her as a threat because she had dared to love the impossible?

His cigarette was almost done and he watched it burn out into nothingness.

Yes, Gotham was a most peculiar place. It was like stained glass—full of beauty and promise but with such a sad complexion to it. It was a city of wounds, a city of forsaken lives and caged souls. And those who dared to step outside of their cages were automatically persecuted.

_Perhaps I can understand why an attack is needed. Harley has a point. _

In spite of his uneasiness, he resolved to do whatever she asked of him. Even if he didn't fully understand her, he was willing to do what he could. He just hoped that it wouldn't get him killed in the end.

_That is if she doesn't kill me first._

No. That was a stupid thought. Harley had changed, but she hadn't changed _that_ much. She still always addressed him affectionately and spoke more kindly to him than to the others. He supposed that she still considered him to be her closest ally. So, yeah, she wasn't about to end his life. That was something that the boss would do but not Harley.

_I doubt she even has the instinct to kill what with that big lovey-dovey heart of hers. _

Smiling slightly, Cutter yawned and stretched his arms over his head. It was going to be a long night and he hoped that he managed to stay awake for any new information from Harley. The kid tended to be rather sporadic with her updates and often spoke them out at random.

Turning, he went back inside and carefully shut the entrance behind him, making sure that no one was watching. One never could be too careful, especially with the Batman out on the prowl.

But, to his relief, he saw no one watching him in the darkness. No Batman observing him from a nearby rooftop with calculated, glowing eyes.

No Batman in sight.


	3. Heartbeat

His breathing had sped up again and she brought a hot towel to wipe his forehead with.

Poor thing. Poor Mr. J.

He was running another fever. How many hours had she spent looking after him? She knew not how many. She didn't care. She had wrapped his wounds with the upmost care, cradled his head in her arms, taking his shivering hands in her own and keeping them warm.

Such precious moments were like beautiful dreams to her—temporary yet lingering in the landscape of her memories. She knew he wouldn't like her pawing at him once he was fully awake, so she enjoyed this time with him while it lasted.

"Harrr…" Mr. J murmured, blinking a bit. He was still half-asleep. "Whrrrgh…mrff…"

_Poor Puddin'. I wonder what he thinks he's saying…_

"You shouldn't try to talk," she said to him gently. "You need to be resting. You have a lot of recovering ahead of you, Mr. J."

"Grrgh," Mr. J replied, closing his eyes again in fatigue.

She smiled and stroked his hair, twirling it around in her fingers. Any other person would never have dared to do that. But she was not any other person.

"I'm going to make you happy, Mr. J," she told him. "I'm going to see to it that you'll never have to suffer ever again at the hands of that pathetic bat. Gotham rightfully belongs to you."

"Urgghhhh…"

"What should I do, Puddin'? Should I bomb a building or rob a bank? I wish you were still conscious. You would know what the best option is to get everyone's attention."

He didn't reply and had apparently dozed off again. Very slowly, she brought her head down and laid it against his chest, wrapping her arms gently around his waist as he shivered in sickness. She kissed each bruise, each wound, saving the scars on his face for last. She knew he was too sick and out of it to feel her, but she didn't care. For a while, she was just content to be close to him, to feel him breathing.

She shut her eyes briefly and whispered into his ear, hoping some conscious part of him would hear her. "Get well soon, Mr. J. I'm looking forward to when we can cause some pandemonium together."

For a half hour or so, she dozed alongside him, curling herself around him and soothing his shivering body.

Heaven.

XxX

Traveling in daylight was harder than at night. The Batman knew this well. He took great care to make sure that no one would see him. It would mean trouble.

_Where are you? What are you planning?_

Harleen Quinzel. Harley Quinn. The girl who had done the unthinkable—broken the Joker out of Arkham asylum out of sheer love and devotion for him. The girl had gone insane, deranged from her emotions for the madman.

For a few days, nothing had happened. One would think that the girl would be unleashing a full-scale attack on the city by now. But nothing had happened so far.

_She's probably still lying low. God, if it turns out that the Joker resurfaces with someone just as crazy as he is…all of Gotham could be in real trouble. _

That's why he had to find the girl as quickly as possible. Perhaps there was still time…still a chance she could be saved from her madness. He could still try to reason with her, get her to understand the idiocy of her actions. Then maybe she could go back to living her old, normal life away from twisted creatures like the Joker.

In his last battle with the clown, the Batman had done some pretty rough damage. He had done what he needed to do in order to survive the fight. Looking back though, he regretted it somewhat. He shouldn't have wounded the clown so badly. After all, it was what set Harley off in the first place.

_Therefore, Harley is my responsibility. _

It was his job to save her, to bring her back into the light. And he would do it, he swore it.

_Change or no change, she's still a human being. She couldn't have lost all of her morals and rationality that quickly. _

A black crow flapped down and perched on top of the trashcan beside him. It blinked, preened it's jet-black feathers, and cawed at him.

He stared at it for a minute, lost in his thoughts. Then it cawed again and flapped back into the air, heading west.

_North…_

He hadn't checked west-Gotham yet. What was that old expression?

"_As the crow flies". Yes, that's what it was._

He would search the west district. Perhaps he could find a clue to the whereabouts of Joker and Harley's location. Then he'd bring the two of them to justice.

Resigned, he slipped back into the shadows, moving swiftly out of sight from any nearby citizens.

_Harleen,_ he thought. _I hope that there is still hope for you._

XxX

"Open up, Mr. J. Yes, like that. Nice and wide."

Gently, she fed him the broth, holding him up with one arm and clutching the spoon with the other. Poor Mr. J barely even knew what was going on. His eyes were nothing more than slits and had a cloudy look to them as he drank the warm liquid. Occasionally, he would utter a groan or a cough and she tried her best not to move him around too much.

"Okay. Here's another."

"How is he?" It was Cutter, tip-toeing into the room as quietly as he could.

"Report first," she said.

"No sign of the Bat. Poke and I checked the whole area. This place is so well-concealed I doubt he'll find us."

"I certainly hope so. Come here, Cutter. I need help propping him up. It's hard keeping the spoon from dripping with just one hand."

Cutter went over and held up his boss, allowing Harley the chance to get the bowl.

"His color is a bit better. The fever is going down some as well. And he seems to be eating, though not very enthusiastically."

"The boss never really eats that much to begin with."

"I also managed to patch up some of his wounds. When he's fully conscious, I'd like to put his broken arm in a sling. I've already made a cast for his leg."

Cutter shook his head. "How do you do it?"

"To be honest, I wish we had a professional medic or something doing this work. I may have gone to med school, but doctoring people is not my thing. It would be pretty useful if we recruited someone with medical experience."

Cutter thought for a moment. "You've got a point. But we're really not in the time for recruiting. Plus medic-henchmen don't just fall right out of the sky."

"Well," she said with a malevolent grin. "We'll just have to find one, won't we? And if 'please' doesn't work…well, I'd really like to try this little beauty out." She held up a small knife similar to the boss's.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Got it before I busted Mr. J out. I'm itching to use it." She licked her lips and giggled slightly, making him tremble a bit from the spooky sound.

"When will we be…you know…?"

"Staging our attack? Soon. Very soon. Just as soon as I make sure that Mr. J is nice and comfortable. When we _do_ go out, we'll need someone to stay here and watch him."

"I'll stay if you want."

She shook her head firmly. "No, Cutter. I'll need you for this. I'll need Poke too since he seems to have the best aim. Either Rocco or Henshaw will have to stay."

"Why do you need me?"

She smiled, sweet yet commanding. "You're still Mr. J's main man. Even if I'm leading, you're still the main man. I'll need you to cover me."

He shrugged. "If you say so."

On the bed, Mr. J breathed in and muttered something, making Harley quickly put down the spoon and bowl and lean over him.

"What? Mr. J? What'cha say?"

"…Full…"

"Oh. You're full. No more then. We'll go and let you sleep."

So they silently went out of the room. Harley closed the door only half-way and watched him through the opening.

"You really love him, don't you?"

She turned to Cutter and stared at him, her face calm and serious.

"I do, Cutter. I really do. More than anything else in the whole world."

He could tell. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. It hung around her like an aura.

They were silent for a moment, both watching Mr. J inhale and exhale through the doorway until he finally dropped back off to sleep.

"Come on," she told him softly. "Let's gather the boys up together. We're going to have a little meeting about our attack."


	4. Face To Face

Harley felt Poke's scrawny figure beside her with excitement as they crouched low in the alleyway. His eyes stared at her through his criminal clown-mask, waiting for her instructions.

They were only feet away from Gotham National Bank, the very place her Mr. J had once robbed. The bank would be closing in a few hours, meaning that they had to act fast.

She squatted farther ahead of them, calculating every step and action to take in order to pull this little stint off. Cutter stooped down to the left of her, keeping close and readying himself to follow her lead. Flanking the back of her were the cousins. Despite her coaxing, they refused to be separated and had voiced their desire to go together on the mission. Poor Mr. J was still drowsing all alone back at the hideout.

"What's the plan?" Cutter whispered in her ear. "Do we just go charging? The bank's upped the security since the boss last broke into it."

"Patience. A few extra guards ain't gonna stop us. Just wait…when I give the signal, we go in like we planned it out. I'll go in first but I'll need you and Poke to cover me while the cousins and I go get the loot." Then she held up a strange-looking device with red numbers. Cutter's blood turned cold.

"Is that…a bomb?"

"No. It's fake. The only explosives I got are the ones we're using for the vaults. But if anyone gives you trouble, threaten 'em with this. I took extra-special care to make sure that these things look like the real deal. No one will try to stop you if you threaten 'em with a good ole bomb." She grinned widely, her blue eyes glowing with malevolent radiance. Her white war-paint gave her face a ghostly look to it…almost supernatural.

Poke shook anxiously and nudged her. "I get to shoot as many as I want, right Harley?"

"Yes, Poke. Do what you want with any guards. But try to avoid the civilians. We don't want to have to make too much of a mess."

They waited for a moment, frozen in time for what seemed like centuries before Harley finally spoke.

"Alright. Let's go, boys."

XxX

The Bat raised his head and tilted it in the direction of the sirens, listening for a sign. Police cars were frantically screaming through the streets, zooming towards Gotham National Bank in frenzy.

That wasn't all though. Smoke. Smoke beginning to rise in the distance, drifting rapidly into the late-afternoon sky in thick dark-gray puffs.

_Gotham National…of course! It makes sense!_

In spite of the daylight that was still present, he headed for the location as swiftly as he could, preparing himself for whatever battle might come.

_Why didn't I think of that before? It figures that the first place she would strike would be Gotham National. After all, it's where the Joker first became noticed by the media. _

This was it. Their confrontation. The event he had been waiting for a long time. He would see to it that Harley Quinn would be brought to justice, come whatever scuffle may follow.

_Quinn, let's hope that you still aren't too far gone to listen to reason!_

XxX

"Keep your heads to the ground," Cutter said roughly to the trembling victims through his clown-mask. "No one move or else I blow this place up to ashes."

Across the room, Poke was wiping the blood off of his cheek with his sleeve. Harley had been right; the guards had really been no trouble at all.

"Hey," Poke said with a wicked smirk to a woman that was shaking particularly hard. "What's wrong? Not a fan of pointy things?" He held his blood-stained knife close to her face, making her shriek.

"Cut it out, Poke. We're waiting for Harley to gather up the money. Just keep the hostages still…don't torment them."

"Sorry. But still…don't derive me of my fun. People are just so great to mess with. Don't you think so, ma'am?"

"P-please," the woman said. "Don't kill us…please…."

"Aw, where would the fun in that be? I'll bet you're more of the torture-type, am I right?"

"P-p-please…"

"How 'bout a game. I'm thinking of a number between one and fifteen. Guess right and I don't cut you up a bit."

The poor lady could only whimper pathetically, bringing forth the whimpers of the other victims and thus triggering a flame of annoyance in Cutter.

"POKE! I told you to cut it out."

Poke smiled sheepishly and let the woman go, sending her back to cower behind a table. "Okay, okay. Fine. No need to get snappy. I was just having a bit of fun. Let's hope Harley just gathers up the loot quickly."

And Harley was gathering it up. Or at least gathering it up as fast as she could. Rocco and Henshaw moved just as fast as she did, killing rogue guards before they had the chance to fire at her. Now, opening up their carrying-sacks, they grabbed all the money they could, glancing nervously every now and then for any signs of danger. For the most part, the heist was moving surprisingly easy.

"That's enough. We don't need all of it. Leave the rest and let's go."

Harley darted back into the main bank lobby, grinning impishly at the hostages as she reunited with Poke and Cutter.

"Sorry for our rude interruption of your lives, ladies and gentlemen. A shame this wasn't as fun as I'd hoped it would be. But oh well. We can't have it all. We'll be leaving now."

"Good thing you're done. This moron really annoys me sometimes."

"Geez, Cutter! I said I was sorry! Harley, you have no idea how no-nonsense this guy can be."

Harley giggled and aimed a kick at a hostage that was trying to crawl away. "Oh no you don't. You're gonna stay here nice and cozy until we split. Boys, looks like we'll have to find another way out. There are cop cars outside. We'll be hamburger if we stick around. Come on, out the back way."

They followed her, carrying the sacks of money in their arms and holding their guns and knives against their chests.

"This was really easy, Harley," Henshaw said in happy bewilderment. "That was a piece of cake!"

"What did I tell you? Mr. J is gonna be sooo happy to see all this money. We'll be able to get some new weapons with this stuff."

"I call dibs on new flamethrowers," Poke said with a wide smile. "Gonna have me a world-class cookout around the city."

"Uh…guys…"

"Look a window. It might be just big enough…what do you blokes say?"

"I can certainly fit in it. Big fellows like Rocco and Henshaw might have trouble getting through."

"Guys…"

"They'll fit. They'll have to. Oh, Mr. J, wait 'till you see what we did for you…what I planned all in your honor…"

"GUYS!" Rocco screamed loudly as the sound of glass shattering echoed above them. Almost instantly, Rocco was sent to the ground with Henshaw shortly following him.

Harley had just enough time to duck as a dark fist nearly collided with the side of her head. Poke and Cutter dashed forward, charging at the figure with firing guns that missed as the figure darted dexterously away from the line of fire. Then the figure swung two fists and punched the two of them at the same time, sending them rolling on the floor.

Instinctively, Harley began to run, moving as fast as she could out the back door as the figure chased after her. Agilely, she climbed a nearby fire-escape and scrambled upwards, feeling her heart pound loudly in her chest.

The figure followed her up towards the roof, allowing her only mere seconds to ready herself to strike. When the figure came forward, she grinned demonically, clenching her hands into fists.

"It's _you_. We finally meet again. It _does_ feel a bit like the first time, doesn't it? I mean, I was a bit different the last time I saw you."

"Harleen," the dark caped man said, moving forward. "Stop this at once. I've been keeping my eye out for you for days now and I'm not about to let you rob Gotham National the same way the Joker did."

"You're not about to let me? Really? What a shame, Batsy, I would have guessed that you'd be the type of guy who just let's things go…you know, the same way you let things go with my Mr. J."

"Your 'Mr. J' is a maniac. He's given you delusions of grandeur and he's twisted your mind. Cease this madness and turn yourself in. They can help you, Harleen. They can give you back your old life."

She laughed, wrapping her arms around her stomach and hugging herself. "My _old life_? HA! What a joke, Batsy! My old life was NOTHING!" She cocked her head and glared at him, still grinning. "Perhaps _you're _really the one who should be locked up. After all, what kind of a sane man dresses up in an armored bat-suit like its Halloween?"

The Batman growled low in his throat and moved forward an inch, trying to sound reasoning. "You were a doctor at Arkham Asylum. You had lots of promise. Why give it all up? Why lose it to the very man who could bring about the end of this city?"

She laughed again and did a small backwards-cartwheel. "Oh _really_, you can't be serious! I was a lie. Just another meaningless individual living a humdrum life going nowhere. I admit, I was frightened of Mr. J when he first kidnapped me…but then I began to realize how right he was about everything…how remarkable he was…how beautifully wonderful…"

"You love him," the Batman said in shocked disgust.

She turned her gaze back towards him and nodded, basking him in the fierce glow of her eyes. "That's right, Bats. You got it. I love him more than anything else. I'd bleed for him…kill for him…"

"You're a fool, Quinn. The Joker will only bring you ruin. Turn yourself in now while there's still a chance."

"A _chance_? A CHANCE? There never was a chance for me, Batsy. This is who I was born to be. Mr. J is the one who let me see that and I'll do whatever it takes to see that he makes the people of Gotham pay for their ignorance and blindness." Her black-lipped mouth was pulled down into a frown and her eyes seemed to become even wickeder than ever. "You're in our way, Bats. You hurt my Puddin'. He's still barely recovering because of what you did to him. And if you hurt Mr. J, then I am going to make you suffer for it. Don't tell me that I still have a chance. You're my enemy and that's all there is to it."

The Batman was silent for a moment, drinking in what she said. His eyes, though intimidating behind the black cowl, seemed sad and pitying. "You leave me no choice, Quinn." In a flash, he aimed a punch at her.

She dodged and began to giggle. "Good. Now the real fun can begin…" She charged forward and did a front flip-kick, aiming for any weak-points. Like she predicted, the kick was no match for his powerful armor and she had to dive back before he kicked her in the stomach.

Whipping out her knife, she lurched towards him and sliced at his face, getting herself knocked back in the process. Like a quick, wily fox, she swooped back towards him and struck him on the neck, satisfied with the pained grunt her uttered. Taking advantage of the situation, she stuck her knife into the side of his arm and pushed it through the armor, sinking it in as much as possible.

With an injured yell, he flung her off him, throwing one of his bat-a-rang weapons at her. She managed to dodge the first one, but the second one sliced through her right shoulder, making her scream in pain as blood began to flow from the wound. As the Batman went towards her, she threw herself at him and aimed for his knife-wound. Startled, he landed a punch on her face and sent her reeling backwards, coughing up blood.

"You…asshole…Mr. J is better than you'll ever be…"

Her shoulder stung in agony from the bat-a-rang wound and she knew that she wasn't going to be able to defeat him. Feeling around her coat pockets, she found her last smoke-bomb and threw it into his face, making him step back as the smoke covered their surroundings. Wounded and slightly-dazed, she limped her way through the smoke towards where she had come up and dodged the string of punches that he attempted to swing at her.

"Harley! Down here! Harley!" Cutter's voice.

Squinting through the smoke, she saw the boys waiting anxiously in their get-away truck, calling desperately at her. This would be her only chance to escape. Weakly, she ran forward and slid down the fire-escape, falling onto her side on the ground as her footing slipped. They rushed forward and brought her to her feet, dragging her into the truck.

"Step on it," she murmured as they drove away, avoiding the passing police cars. Behind, she could see the smoke beginning to clear on the roof and what looked like a frustrated Batman swooping off to get away from the polices' sight.

_Batman…this isn't over._

Her shoulder ached and she groaned as she sat back in the seat. Blood trickled down her arm and she felt nauseous at the sight of it. Closing her eyes, she let the sound of the blaring cars and sirens block out the pain. The boys had removed their clown-masks and were silent, keeping their eyes nervously out the window while Cutter drove.

_No…this isn't over in the slightest._

And it wasn't.


	5. BandAid

The world around her swam for a while. The slight blood-loss she had undergone had weakened her and she barely recalled the drive back to the hideout. Though her wounds were not as bad as Mr. J's had been, she still felt a wave of fatigue sweep through her as her comrades dragged her inside.

At least the heist had been a success. They were prosperous in procuring several bags of money—needed desperately for new supplies and weapons. So really, their escapade had not been in vain. Actually, minus her wound, things had gone almost perfectly. Mr. J would be so proud when she told him.

Her eyes finally focusing, Harley felt a sharp sting on her shoulder and cried out at the sight of a long sharp needle piercing her flesh.

"Don't struggle. You're going to damage the wound even more."

Cutter was sitting beside her and attempting to stitch up her wound, trying his best to keep his fingers from trembling.

"I hate needles!"

"Well, you need one in this case. Damn, it's bleeding again. Hold still."

"Hurts! Ow!"

But Cutter kept at it, tending to her injury with the patience of a parent to a squirming child. When the stitching was done, he took out a handkerchief and wrapped it around the wound, wiping up any blood that flowed.

"There. It's the best I could do. You should keep an eye on it to make sure that it doesn't get infected."

"What—"

"You gave us a bit of a scare for a moment there on the ride back. You spaced out and got all limp. The boys and I were worried that you were going to pass out or something. You should be alright now. I'm glad to see that you came back to your senses."

"How's Mr. J?"

"The boss? He's fine. He's still asleep. I don't even think that he was aware that we were out. Maybe later he'll finally wake up and you can tell him about our little adventure."

"It wasn't a 'little' adventure, Cutter. It was something else…something new. I felt it in my bones."

He eyed her curiously, watching the way her eyes glimmered. "You mean when you and the Batman—"

"Met face-to-face at last? I was itching for it. I got a chance to test him out…see what he's capable of." She glanced at her shoulder wound and laughed cynically. "Guess I found out."

"You're very tough, Harley, but I don't think that you're as physically strong as the Batman. His armor makes it hard to hurt him and he's as quick as a serpent. You should have known better than to try to take him out on your own."

She turned and grinned at him, her white war-paint smeared and the dark rings around her eyes growing darker. "I'd do it again if I could. I was actually able to _stab_ him. We just need more heavy-duty weapons. I doubt that armor of his will survive a rocket-launcher or a bullet to the head…hee hee hee…"

"Be careful the next time you come across the Batman. If there's one thing that the boss taught me, it's that the Batman is not someone to be underestimated."

"Batman…oh, how I hate him. It'll be rich when we finally take him out, I can promise you that, Cutter. One day, I'll have his head mounted on the wall. It'll be glorious."

"Hey, there's something on your other shoulder. Did he hurt you there as well? The fabric is all torn up from the fight…" Cutter turned her around and examined her left shoulder-blade.

_**J + H**_

"What the hell is this? Is it a scar?"

She smiled and nodded, touching it gently. "Yes. A scar…I made it myself. I've had it for a while now…"

He looked at her incredulously, almost in disbelief. Had it been anyone other than Cutter, she'd have killed them where they stood. Then Cutter's expression relaxed and he looked away, almost shrugging it off.

_How cute. He's going to play it cool._

"You shouldn't do stuff like that to yourself. You ruin your body that way."

"I'm not going to do it anywhere else. Not unless Mr. J tells me to. This is just something special…a rite-of-passage kind of mark if you get my drift."

"Still, all the same…" He reached forward and placed a bandage-patch atop the mark. "All things need time to heal, regardless of their significance or their permanence."

She laughed and cuffed him playfully. "Now look what you went and did, Cutter. Now I'll have to peel that off. And doing that can be pretty nasty business."

"Speaking of nasty business, you should probably consider grooming the boss while he's stuck in bed."

"I love Mr. J, Cutter, but he's got some of the greasiest hair I've ever seen."

"Still, water should perk him up some. We've got running water in this place. I'd ask the cousins, but they'd bungle it for sure. To be honest, we're all kind of nervous about handling him. Yet another reason why you come in handy."

She cocked her head, considering. "Alright. But only if you do it with me. Washing up Mr. J is going to be kind of a problem if he's conscious enough to put up a fight."

"You want me to help you?"

"Yup. No wait, I _order_ you to. Yeah. So help me an' stuff."

"...Alright. After all, you'll need it with that patched-up right-shoulder of yours. Hopefully, the boss won't get too grumpy."

"My Puddin' won't be grumpy," she said beaming. "He's always on his best behavior to me."

_Hm. That worries me though. Does she really even truly know how the boss can get? Oh well, she'll have to learn eventually. _

Harley got up and rubbed at her wound, testing her arm out. "I think I'm okay. Let's go." She began to skip forward, giggling at some joke that only she had heard in her head.

"Hey, slow down! Don't hurt yourself."

"Aw, loosen up! My arms and shoulders may be sore, but my legs are still all-energy."

"You're going to crash into something. I saw you do it yesterday when you were jumping around all wildly like that."

"Blah, blah, blah…"

"Listen to me! I really mean it."

But she just grinned and continued to sprint ahead, running in that drunken-giddy way of hers as he trailed behind, groaning at her obvious lack of concern for herself.

"I'm too old for this…"


	6. Warmth

Days passed in a blink of the eye. The boys got their new weapons and the location of their hideout was still unknown to the rest of Gotham.

For the most part, things were going alright. But somehow, she still felt hollow inside, lonely for Mr. J's attention and awareness. She didn't mind looking after him—feeding him, cleaning him up, and checking his injuries. But she wanted to hear his voice, wanted to relish the fullness of his presence in her life again. She mostly spent her days tending to him and thinking on what to do next in order to strike out against the Batman.

"What do you think, Sammy?" she asked one afternoon to her stuffed bunny rabbit. Even when she had been very small, Sammy had always been a good confidant. "What should the next plan be?"

The rabbit's blank button eyes just stared back at her emptily.

"Oh? What's that? An ambush perhaps? That might be a good idea. No…you don't say? Lure him in and then attack? How interesting."

She giggled and snuggled the rabbit to her chest. "It sounds like a good plan. But not quite just yet. I wanna see what old Batsy can really do before I'm ready to go in for a kill. After all, we've just started out. I wanna play with him some more."

She got to her feet and tested her arm, smiling at the fact that the wound had healed up. Then she performed a perfect cartwheel across the room, followed by a front flip. She always had to practice her physical-moves. It kept her ready for whenever she would need them in combat. Though it had taken her some time, she guessed that she actually had wholly regained them…going back to her old endless strength and stamina from her salad days in gymnastics.

Pausing, she went towards the mirror hanging on the wall and grinned at her reflection. Though she wasn't covered in white war-paint at the moment, the black lipstick and dark shadows around her eyes really made her feel like the Joker's girl. Her blonde pigtails bounced as she turned her head from side to side, inspecting herself.

"Lookin' better every day," she said with a chuckle. "All the better for Puddin'."

Speaking of her Puddin'…

She tip-toed into the bedroom and peeked through the crack in the doorway. He was still asleep. Sighing, she went forward and sat at the edge of the bed, staring at him with longing and distress.

"I wish you'd get a little livelier," she said to him softly. "You being all weak and frail is really making me miss you. Poor, poor thing."

"Harley," he murmured hoarsely, and she jumped. His eyes were open in slits, clouded in confusion and irritation. He was just barely awake, but he appeared to finally possess some level of awareness of his surroundings. For Harley, this was wonderful.

"Mr. J? Ooh, you're awake! How are you doing?" She had to hold herself back from bounding on top of him like an overly-excited puppy. "How does your arm and leg feel?"

"Feels like shit," he growled, barely able to sit up. "Where the hell are we?"

"Someplace nice and safe, Puddin'. The boys and I brought you here."

He groaned and attempted to shift his position, crying out in the process.

She grabbed hold of him before he fell out of the bed. "Don't be moving around like that, Mr. J! You should keep still. I need you to recover, not injure yourself some more."

He stared up at her, almost as if seeing her for the first time. "Harley…your hair…"

"Yup. It's blonde now? Surely you must remember, Mr. J? Remember the night I busted you out of Arkham? You noticed it then."

"Oh yeah…that's right….that night…" And he began to giggle, shaking with laughter until tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked up at her through his half-closed eyes and laughed harder, almost as if he were laughing _at_ her.

It confused her. It was the same kind of laughter he was consumed with the night she broke him out…almost as if he had known that she would break him out all along. It sent a chill down her spine though she didn't really know why. She was probably just being silly.

Then, when he was done giggling, his face grew serious and he licked his lips. "You've grown since I last fully saw you…not _literally_, of course. Just…something about you that's different."

"You freed me," she said as she leaned over to nuzzle him gently. "Don't you remember? You were always telling me to free my inner persona. Well, I finally did. And it's all because of you, Puddin'. You did all that. Don't you remember?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, my pet," he said, using the nickname that she loved so much. "Daddy's been feeling a bit under the weather for so long. It takes a while before all the pieces are put back into place again." He eyed her some more, scrutinizing every detail of her face. "So beautiful. Like an angel. My little _harlequin_-angel."

His cooing had excited her and she kissed him over and over, saving his scars for last. To hear the sound of his voice, to see his eyes finally open, was a sheer blessing. How she had missed him so! He didn't resist when she snuggled against him, he just lay there and inhaled, allowing her to gently stroke his hair and squeak in utter delight.

Finally, she released him and propped him up against the pillows, making sure he was in a comfortable position. He frowned at his casts and made a face—a sort of grumpy school-boy sort of look.

"Don't look so cross, Mr. J. I did my best to patch you up. It wasn't easy. But with lots of rest, you should heal up just fine. It is just going to take some time and patience. I promise you, the Batman will pay for making you hurt like this."

"Batman?" His eyes glowed and for a moment, he almost looked fully-recovered.

She smiled and gently made him lean back. "Oh, don't talk about him, Mr. J. I don't want you to stress yourself out."

"Where is he? Is he on our trail?" Mr. J looked genuinely ready to fight, to take on whatever Batman-related challenge was possible.

_Aww, he must be so scared._

"Now, now…it's okay. He's got no clue where we are. We're safe and sound right here and he's not gonna find us."

"Oh," Mr. J said, almost boredly. Then he looked down at his stomach and rubbed it. "For once in my life, Harley, I'm actually pretty hungry. What have you been feeding me anyway?"

"Oh, pain-pills, soup, the occasional bowl of oatmeal. That kind of stuff." But almost as she said these things, she was already on her feet to get food for him. "Don't move a muscle, Mr. J. I'll get you something to eat at once."

She brought him some bread and fruit and hand-fed it to him, giggling whenever he'd playfully snap at her fingertips. She was overjoyed to see that he had an appetite. Words could not describe how glad she was to see that he was finally somewhat recovered. He still had a lot of healing-up to do though. Those broken bones were going to take weeks before he'd be able to use them again. The poor thing would still have to be kept in bed for a while. But it was always nice to see him awake and acknowledging her.

When he was finished, he sighed and leaned back, raising an eye-brow up at her. "I like those pig-tails, my pet. Your hair should always be like that."

"I knew you'd like it," she said with a beam. "I've been up to a lot of things lately, Puddin'. You'll be really proud of me."

"Oh really? What kind of things?"

Gulp._ Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell him about my encounter with Batman. Not until later at least. _

"Uh…well, you know…keeping the boys in line…gathering supplies. Those sorts of things."

"Well, well…my Harley Quinn is turning into a little leader, is she?"

The image of herself marching the boys around army-man style popped into her head and she grinned, scooting back against him again. "Not exactly. Just making sure they stick around. I've got lots of neat things planned for us, Mr. J."

"Planned? Now what did I tell you about planning? It's the sort of stuff schemers do. Our kind isn't the type that schemes, Harley."

She blushed. "I know. But sometimes, it might be necessary. You never know when you'll need a plan, Puddin'."

He licked his lips again and said nothing. She took this opportunity to nuzzle up against him again, resting her head ever-so-delicately on his shoulder. He didn't respond to her affection, but simply closed his eyes and sighed again.

"I missed you, Mr. J," she whispered, feeling her eyes grow moist. "You have no idea how much I missed having you awake. I won't let you get beaten-up like this. Not ever again. Never-ever-ever."

He smiled, perhaps amused with how high and childish her voice sounded. "Oh really? Did you really miss me that much? After all, it wasn't like I went anywhere. Apparently, according to you, I was still here the whole time."

"I love you, Mr. J. So much…" She kissed him again. "It hurts how much I love you."

"We all hurt a bit, my sweet."

Another kiss. This time, more passionate. When she attempted to stroke his hair again, he licked her fingertips, making her shudder. The need was back. The need she had once experienced the day when she first realized that she loved him, the need she had felt when she had been separated from him when she was brought back to society those weeks ago. The need was here now, making her hungry for him, yearning for his touch.

"Mr. J…"

He grinned, almost meanly, and brought a finger to her lips with his good arm, hushing her. "Sorry, my pet. I know what you're thinking. I don't think I'm in any condition for it." He seemed to enjoy the agonized expression on her face, relishing the way she suffered.

Finally, she forced herself away from his side and sat up, pouting and trying to hide her impatience. "Phooey." Then she turned back to him and her eyes brightened a bit. "I'm gonna get you back to old self, Mr. J. I'll make sure that you get properly healed up and I'll try my best to keep the boys under control until you feel good and ready. I'm gonna do my very best, Puddin'. I swear it."

He chuckled and closed his eyes again. "I'm sure you will. Just don't do anything stupid. I'd hate for you to make a big mess. It would be a shame for me to have to…punish you a bit for meddling things up once I've recovered." His words were playful, but she knew the truth in them. It made her even more determined.

"I won't let you down, Mr. J. I promise! And I…I'm gonna see to it that you'll never be hurt again…"

He cocked his head in curiosity, but she simply stood there with balled-up fists and nodded to herself. Yes, the Batman would pay for what he had done to the Joker. There would be blood indeed; she'd make sure of that.

Weakly, groaning somewhat, he rolled over on his side. "Go away now, Harley. I'm tired. Run off and play or something."

"Oh, yes! Alright. I'll do that. You need your rest, after all."

He muttered something under the covers and was then still, breathing in and out in his usual ragged fashion.

As she turned to leave, she tipped her head back and stared at him for a long moment, smiling ever-so-slightly. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, making her feel all warm and melty inside.

Was it wrong to love someone this much? Perhaps there seriously _was_ something wrong with her. But she didn't care. All she knew was that Mr. J's consciousness had finally resurfaced and she couldn't be happier.

"Pleasant dreams, Puddin'…"

And she shut the bedroom door.


	7. Frenemies

She leaned back against the wall and stared out into the dim twilight. The air was warm and the wind was gentle. In a way, it reminded her of the neighborhood that she had once lived in as a child. The only thing that it really lacked was the occasional chirp of crickets ringing softly in the gloom. That, and the fact that she never stood there wearing war-paint and a harlequin-coat.

Presently, she took out a lighter and played with it a while, watching the light flicker. It was very soothing somehow, making her feel safe despite how out in the open she was outside the warehouse-hideout.

"Pretty," said a familiar voice, coming up to her. "How I do love that glow…"

She turned and found Poke striding up to her. His dark hair was tousled and hung messily in his face. As usual, he was grinning that eerie grin of his, making her feel both glad and discomforted to see him.

"Hello. I trust you've been to see Mr. J? He's awake now, you know."

"Yep. I saw the boss. Glad to see that he finally woke up. He had me sort of worried there for a moment."

"You have no idea," she said with an airy whisper. "How happy I am to see that he's okay."

He chuckled a bit and hovered closer to the tiny flame. "Oh, I suspect that you're really glad. After all, you've been hanging around his bedside for _days_. It's a relief, I'm sure. Looks like your loyalty has paid off."

Pleased with his words, she handed him the lighter and he uttered a tiny squeal of delight, running the lighter in between his fingers.

"Why do you love fire so much? Even when I was a shrink, I never could really fully understand where pyromania stemmed from."

"Everyone loves fire a bit," Poke said. "I just love it a bit more than everyone else. Fire is a comfort…a refuge of some sorts. You can stare into the flames and find yourself glowing with an aura of power within them. Fire is a sword, a guardian that can protect you. Don't tell me you've never felt that omnipotent tingle whenever you've burned something?"

She shrugged. "Well...I suppose…"

He took out another lighter from his pocket. "This one is my personal favorite. The boss gave it to me when I first joined his crew. Ain't she beautiful?" He twirled it around in front of her.

"Yes," she said in awe. "She is rather beautiful…"

"Just another piece of brilliance from the boss. There's never been another man quite like him."

"No," she agreed. "No there isn't."

Then he stopped and thought a minute. "Well, actually…maybe there is. The Batman."

"The _Batman_?" she asked with an angry hiss, towering over him. "How is _he_ anything like Mr. J? I hate him!"

"Er, yes well, I do too. It's just that the Batman is like the boss in that they both are sort of the black sheep of Gotham. They're both rejected by society so to speak."

She cocked her head and considered it. "Perhaps, you're right. Yes…that actually makes a bit of sense. But while Batman is never caught, Mr. J has to suffer and get locked up." She gritted her teeth, feeling the red-hot hate for the masked flying rodent well up within her.

Poke leaned over her shoulder and watched her face, perhaps trying to find the right thing to say. "Have you told the boss of your little encounter with the Bat yet?"

"No. I don't intend on telling him until the time is right. And Poke, neither you nor the others breathe a word about it to him. If I want to make the Batman suffer, I want to make sure that Mr. J doesn't get too involved. The poor thing has already suffered enough. I want him to be good and surprised when he sees what I'm going to do for him."

"But first," Poke said as he closed his lighter. "First, we actually have to _defeat_ the Batman. How are we going to do that? The Batman only shows up whenever he's positive of where we are. And right now, I'd say that we're pretty well-hidden. Not only that, but we're just not too ready to try to take him on. You saw how tough he can be. The wound you had on your arm was proof of that."

She smiled maliciously at him, her blue eyes glowing brightly. "Then we'll just have to prepare ourselves more. I'm still going to try to fight him even if he shows up and we're not prepared. And as for finding him? Well…perhaps we can get a little information on where he usually prowls…"

"But who? Who could give us that information?"

She laughed, turning a cartwheel forward. "Think, Pokey. We're not _that _aloof. We've got connections. Mr. J and I just happen to be acquainted with a certain fellow that probably has a whole bunch of info on ole Batsy. You could say that he's a real…scream..."

Poke eyes lit up. "You mean…the Scarecrow?"

"Bingo! What do you say, Poke? Should you and I go pay a visit to his-royal-freakness?"

Poke glanced nervously back at the warehouse. "Shouldn't we get the others? I mean, Scarecrow's probably not one to mess with."

"Johnny isn't that tough. Don't get the others. It'll be you and me, Poke. I have a fair idea on where he could be. Hangs around the abandoned factory only a little bit north of here. So whattya say? Come on!"

Before he could answer, she ran off into the darkness, leaving him no choice but to run after her.

"Harley! Wait up! Wait for me!"

XxX

"Not a very cheery part of town is this?" he said with a scowl. "Filthy streets, rats everywhere, not a person in sight...I usually don't really care about this sort of stuff, but there's something really unnerving about this place."

"Don't be a baby. This place is no different than all the other parts of lesser-Gotham. And all the better that there's no one around—I'd hate to have to have the GCPD called on us. Come on, keep up."

Poke scurried beside her, clutching his knife and glancing around nervously. Shadows seemed to dance across the walls of the alleyways and the sewers possessed a rather ungodly aroma to them. As much as she didn't admit it, she could understand why Poke felt the way he did about this place. It _was_ rather unpleasant. But she pushed back her fear and kept moving forward, eyeing every nook and cranny for a trace of Scarecrow's lair.

"Do you remember?" Poke asked shakily. "The old urban legend that sprang up a year or so ago? The one that said that there was some sort of crocodile-man running around in the sewers?"

She laughed. "Yeah. I remember that one."

"If he ever needed a place to hang around, it would be here. The sewers stink high to Heaven."

"Probably why ole Johnny likes this place. The stink is enough to keep everyone away."

"Harley," Poke said with a nervous twitch. "Let's go back to the hideout. We're not going to find him. This place is bad news and information is not worth putting our lives in danger."

She whirled around and stared at him fiercely. "Have you really forgotten, Poke? _We_ are the danger. Have you forgotten who you work for? For someone so brave in combat, you certainly are acting rather cowardly."

"Sorry," he said, flinching slightly. "Sorry. It's just this _place_. It creeps me out big time."

"Suck it up," she said with a growl. "We're not about to turn back so—"

"Look!" he shouted pointing into the darkness ahead. A large, burly man stepped out of the shadows and stood before them. Then, five more men stepped out as well, each as large and massive.

"Well, well…company."

Instinctively, Harley pulled out her knife and stood her ground, glaring at each man as ferociously as she could.

"We're not here to fight," she said quietly. "We've come to see your boss. I know you fellows work for him. We demand that we meet him."

"You're in no position to order us, girlie," snarled one of the taller men. "Take 'em out."

As soon as he said it, the men were surrounding them, making Poke whimper as he held out his knife with a trembling hand.

"What do we do?" he asked in a frightened whisper. "There are more of them than there are of us! We're screwed!"

"Hush," she murmured. "I'm not about to let them kill us. Ready yourself to strike." She lunged forward and bared her teeth, ready to sink her blade into flesh. "Don't make me kill the whole lot of you. I'll do it before any of you can even blink."

"Stop," said a man's voice. "Leave them alone. That's no way to treat guests."

The six men backed away and Poke breathed a sigh of relief.

"My my," said the man. "Dr. Quinzel? Is it really you? How you've changed!"

The man with the spooky burlap-sack for a mask came forward, brushing past the men. The eyes behind his mask seemed to glow with excitement, studying every aspect of Harley's war-painted face.

"Crane," Harley said with a grin. "You still look as creepy as ever. Yes, I've changed a bit since when we last met." She held out her knife and waved it at him. "Let me make it clear that I'm not about to be messed with. If I wanted to, I could squash you like a bug and all your men with you."

He laughed and both Poke and Harley shivered a little, discomforted by the eerie, unnatural sound. "Just look at you! That face-paint…those black markings around the eyes…that dark lip-stick smile…you've become a regular Joker haven't you? I must say, I never thought you were one to run around in that getup. But look at you now…you've become just like him." And he laughed again.

"I'm warning you, Crane," Harley growled. "I mean everything I say."

"No need for violence. Let's get inside the factory away from being out in the open. Come along now."

They were led into the large, grimy factory that loomed overhead, pushed by Crane's henchmen until they reached a dark, secluded room on the top floor. Once inside, Crane gave his followers a nod and the men went away.

"Cute," Harley said with a snide chuckle. "Looks like little Johnny has become quite the crime-boss. Do they salute you as well?" Beside her, Poke giggled nervously.

"Don't be rude. I'm actually rather proud of myself for getting them to fully comply with my orders. So…why have you come to see us? What do we have to offer you?"

"Information."

Had his mask been off, Harley could have sworn that his eyebrow was raised.

"Information, hm? Now of what I wonder?"

"Information on the terror that stalks you day after day. Information on the man that was vile enough to hurt my Mr. J. Information on the freak that makes the lot of you cower in fear and hide yourselves in the shadows."

"The Batman," Crane said, nodding.

"Exactly. That's why we've come. I intend on destroying the Batman and I need advice on how to beat him. You've been in the criminal field longer than me and you must know a great deal more about the Batman than I do."

Crane blinked behind the mask and leaned back. "Is that so?" His voice was smug, clearly enjoying the compliments. "Now what makes you think that I'm willing to share any information, hm?"

"Because I am going to be the one to off the Bat for good. Batman is just as much your enemy as he is mine. As far as I'm concerned, you'd probably be thrilled to hear that the one who's been tormenting you for so long is dead."

"Sounds intriguing," Crane agreed. "But what else do you have to offer?"

"Free passage into our territory. That means that you and your lot are free to come and go as you please as long as you don't cause trouble. A temporary truce, perhaps. You scratch my back, I scratch yours."

"And all that other crime-boss rubbish," he said with a chuckle. "Impressive, Dr. Quinzel, you've managed to push yourself up into the Gotham underworld. What once was a shaky little shrink is now Joker's second-in-command—the most talked-about woman on the news these days. You're a work of art, Dr. Quinzel."

"My name isn't Dr. Quinzel anymore," she hissed. "My name is Harley Quinn. Now what do you say, Crane? Are you going to spit it out or not? Me and Poke here walked a very long way just to get over here."

"It wasn't easy," Poke added. "This place is almost as well-concealed as our place is."

Crane paused for a moment and then finally removed his mask. He passed a hand through his dark-brown hair and bit his lip, as if pondering on what to say.

"The Batman…oh boy, the Batman… What can I tell you? He's quicker than a serpent and craftier than a fox. You have no idea how many men I've lost in fighting him."

"Yes," Harley said nodding. "I know. We just recently tried to fight him."

"That incident at Gotham National Bank you mean? I heard about it. But at least you managed to escape."

"Where are his weak-points? What am I supposed to do to fight him? That armor he wears is too strong to take simple blows."

"That armor of his is slightly new. He once had different armor and Rottweilers were usually the best way to tear through it. But it seems that he's upgraded his outfit. Dog don't do shit anymore."

"Where does he get it all from? Did he make his own batarangs and suit?"

"I don't believe so. I think there's someone else…someone who designs all his little gizmos for him. Ever encountered a blow from a batarang?"

Harley shivered. "Yes."

"Nasty business. Actually, I'm rather disappointed to hear that you managed to get hit with one, Harley. From what I hear, you're abnormally fast on your feet and your physical abilities are unnatural. Looks like you just weren't fast enough."

She glared at him. "We didn't come here to discuss my shortcomings, Crane. What should I do in order to kill him?"

Crane leaned forward and studied her face. "The answer is simple: play the victim."

"Huh? Victim?"

"If I know the Bat, he probably pities the hell out of you right now. If I were you, I'd try to convince him that you've reformed, that you've seen the 'error of your ways'. Then, when he's least expecting, you strike and kill him. Even if you are Joker's main squeeze, you're still a woman. Therefore, it might be easier to convince him."

"A trap," Poke murmured under his breath. "A trap for the Bat…"

Harley thought about it, feeling excitement surge through her as a plan began to form up slowly in her head. Yes, Crane had suggested a good idea. Perhaps, she'd wait a while (letting her battle Batsy a bit more) and then put the plan into action. The poor masked flying rodent wouldn't know what hit him.

"Wow, Johnny," she said almost sweetly. "That's actually a pretty good idea. I honestly didn't think we were going to get anything useful from you, but looks like you've proven me wrong."

"Heh."

"BOSS!" Called one of the henchmen, dashing into the room. "Boss, we've got an emergency! He's here!"

"Who's here?" The three of them were already on their feet.

"The Bat! He's here! He's taken out two of the others and he's making is way up here! The boys and I have been trying to stall him as much as possible, but he's still coming through. What do we do?"

"We get the hell out of here," Crane said, leaving Harley and Poke behind. "Nice chatting with you, Harley, but I really must run. It's every man for himself."

"Crane! Don't run out just yet! There's still more things you need to tell me!"

"Sorry, kiddo. Some things are better left to be figured out on your own. See you around."

"Damnit!" Harley screamed as she and Poke began to run. "We're gonna have to fight to get out of here!"

"Ooh, I knew this was a bad idea!"

"Bad idea or not we're here," she said, her eyes firm and determined. "Come on, Poke. We've got a Bat to take down."


	8. The Clash

The sound of gunfire and groaning filled the air as Harley and Poke ran through the shadows. Crane was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, in his cleverness, he had managed to find a way to escape with a few of his followers, leaving the rest behind to deal with the Bat.

_And if Crane managed to get out…it means that there's an exit somewhere around here!_

Her mind flashed back to that recent incident at Gotham National when she had escaped on the rooftops and had evaded being captured through the use of her last smoke-bomb. True, they had some weapons on them, but certainly nothing that would cover them from sight.

"This is bad," Poke moaned, panting roughly. "Oh man, this is so, so bad…"

They stopped and froze behind a stack of wooden boxes, spying a flurry of henchmen being thrown around just a few feet away.

"He's near," Harley hissed, glaring and licking her lips.

"What do we do?"

She looked at Poke and tilted her head, trying to think of a plan as quickly as possible. This was not the time and place to try to go for the kill. She did not want to end Batman's life so quickly and abruptly nor did she think that she would be capable of it at the moment. No, she'd kill the Batman in good time. For now, the objective was to simply get away and get back to the hideout without him following.

_But how? What would Mr. J do? _

Mr. J was not a man who planned. He did everything at random and just went along with whatever happened. And while she was more for forming up plans when the situation called for it, she knew that right now, it was going to take something pretty spontaneous to ensure escape.

_Something spontaneous…something with a little kick to it that I can work with…_

Her eyes widened.

"Poke," she whispered sharply, crouching low to the ground. "Do you still have your lighter?"

Poke's eyes grew large and radiant, immediately understanding her. "You're…you're gonna…"

She grinned wickedly. "This night is getting to dark and gloomy. Let's _light it up_."

He squealed in excitement and quickly whipped the lighter out of his pocket. She grabbed it from him and peeled off a big chunk of wood from the boxes. Then she opened the lighter and lit the wood, watching as the flames arched and flared.

"Hey, Batsy!" she called out, throwing the burning wood forward. "I'd be going if I were you. No one is gonna want to eat barbequed bat-wings!"

The Batman's eyes grew large under the mask and he stood there, probably surprised that she was here.

With a gleeful shriek, Poke ripped off another piece of wood and lit it up, crowing as the flames began to spread all over the place, rippling through the floor and towards the walls. Already, smoke was beginning to cloud the air, making everyone cough and cover their faces.

_Smoke…a perfect cover! Pokey, my boy, I just might start to love fire just as much as you do if we manage to get out of this._

With their figures concealed from the smoke, they charged forward, tearing past the Batman and towards the stairway, avoiding the flames that were beginning to spread behind them.

"FIRE!" Poke shouted giddily, almost skipping. "FIRE! FIRE! FIRRRRRE!" He laughed hysterically, running in a drunken line past her towards what looked like an exit.

But they weren't out of the wood yet. Harley could feel the Bat's shadow beginning to loom closer and closer behind her. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest when she realized that he was closing in on her.

Ahead, Poke managed to get to the exit and vanished through the smoke. But before she could follow him, a rough hand grabbed her coat and pulled her back, pressing her up against the wall as the flames began to get closer and closer.

"Hi, Batsy-boo," she cooed through his grasp, grinning up at him. "What are the odds that we run into each other again so soon? Maybe it's fate."

"Quinn," he said in that gravely, dark voice of his. "You have to stop this."

"Why? Why should I stop when we're having so much fun? The games have just barely begun, Bats. We still have to get to know each other a bit more before they can even think of ending."

"I wasn't able to capture you last time, but this time, there's no way out. I'll give you one last chance to come quietly before I have to use force."

She laughed, coughing slightly from the smoke in the air. "_Force?_ Really! Did you warn my Puddin' that you'd use force when you brutally wounded him? You're not the dashing prince you think you are! You're just as painted black as the rest of us."

"Quinn, I'm giving you one final chance…"

"For someone supposedly so clever, you're awfully slow, aren't you? Don't you get it? I _don't want_ your chance. THIS is who I am. And I am going to make you wish that you never messed with Mr. J. This city belongs to him! And when you're dead, we'll dance on your grave and plunge all of Gotham into eternal chaos!"

"You're mad. The Joker has twisted your mind. He's made you into his personal fool. And when he gets bored with you, he'll toss you away as if you were no more than an old toy."

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Her lower lip trembled and her eyebrows creased as she took in what he had said. "No," she whispered. "No, that's not true…" Suddenly, her eyes flashed. Boiling-hot hatred for him flowed through her veins, making her hunger for blood and death. "YOU'RE WRONG! **YOU'RE A LIAR!**"

Before he had the chance to react, she knee'd him in the stomach and released herself from his grasp. He recovered and ran towards her, ready to swing a blow at her. Just barely dodging both his blow and a falling block of burning wood that had fallen down, she did a front-flip and socked him in the face as hard as she could. To her delight, the blow stunned him temporarily and she attempted to make a dash for where the exit was.

But just as she felt she would get the chance to finally flee, he grabbed her ankle and pushed her to the ground, sending her rolling. As she tried to pick herself up, he pressed a firm, solid foot painfully on her back and pinned her down.

"It's over, Quinn."

She snarled and tried to push him off, but he outweighed her and she found her struggling to be useless. Her head reeled and she could feel the heat from the flames getting hotter and hotter as her eyes desperately scanned the room for a weapon.

_I won't let him take me to Arkham! I won't!_

In a flash, she grabbed a handful of hot ashes and threw them into his face, making him gasp and back away from her. With all her power, she charged forward and slammed him into the wall, leaving him dazed.

_This is my only chance to escape. I've got to do it now while he's still down_.

Squinting through the smoke, she streaked through the flames, feeling the blaze of heat scorch at her body as her legs gobbled the ground. Seeing a glint of moonlight ahead, she sprinted forward, almost choking on the smoke that filled the air. Her muscles cried out in pain from the rapid movement, but she kept her speed and dove onward with all the strength she had left in her.

For a moment, her world was nothing but smoke and ashes and flames, making her head swim and her heart thunder. Then, at long last, cool night air blowing against her face as she collapsed a few feet away from the burning building.

Poke leaned over her and jabbed at her concernedly, testing to see if she was still alive. With a groan, she sat up and panted harshly, making sure that her body wasn't injured. To her amazement, she wasn't really all that wounded. She was just a little ash-streaked and part of her outfit was a tad singed. But for the most part, it appeared that she had made it out alright after all.

In front of her, the warehouse was completely going up in flames, smoldering before their very eyes. She knew the Batman was not going to smolder with it. He was too quick and careful for that. No, he had probably escaped by now and, judging from the lack of others brought out, had not been able to rescue the remaining henchmen.

"We're safe," Poke said softly, staring dreamily into the flames. "We should go back now."

She stared into the fire with him, entranced by the powerful, hellish light.

_Batman…you menace…you liar. _

She hated him now more than ever. She hated him for hurting her Puddin', she hated him for always getting in the way, and she hated him for trying to dissuade her loyalty.

_I'll kill him. I'll make him bleed until he dies. Somehow, I shall see to it that he suffers a long, agonizing death. Oh yes, indeed I shall…_

"Batman!" she screamed out into the rubble, making Poke jump a little behind her. "I'm going to kill you! Gotham belongs to Joker! Death to the Dark Knight! Death to the Bat!"

She turned and ran into the darkness of the night with Poke trailing behind her. Her blonde pigtails bobbed in the wind and the scent of smoke lingered around her. Her painted-black lips stretched into a wide, manic grin, giving her the aura of an angel of doom.

"Death to Batman! Death to Batman!"

In the sky, the moon was red. The air was cold and icy. From a rooftop only a few feet away from the now-crumbling building, the dark, black-caped man watched the woman and her companion disappear into the shadows. Even if he were to swoop down on them now, he'd never be able to reach them. They were too far away now. He heard the woman's shouts slicing through the night like a bullet, filling the air in long, frenzied howls. He knew now that there was no chance to reach her…no chance to get her to see the truth. He had failed her.

And the Batman shut his eyes and turned away.


	9. A Dark Vow

"Where do you think they went off to? The boss is going to be irritated when he finds out that they're gone."

Cutter turned and looked into the face of the worried Rocco. He sighed and shook his head.

"I don't know. She's always out doing something, that Harley. Don't worry about the boss, Rocco. He went back to sleep. I doubt he'll wake up again tonight."

"Perhaps they went to get more weapons," suggested Henshaw. "We never can get enough weapons."

"Yeah," Rocco said, nodding in relief. "Yeah, that makes sense…"

Cutter sat at the table and shuffled a deck of cards, laying them across the table before folding them up again. It was a sort of hobby of his, an anti-stressor. Perhaps he should have asked Harley to bring him some cigarettes. They were out of them right now.

"The boss looks well," Henshaw said brightly. "I'll bet he'll be good as new by the end of the month."

"The month just started," Rocco pointed out. "That's means he's got a long way to go."

"Yes, well, maybe he'll recover enough before that. Who knows? Harley always takes such good care of him."

Cutter sniffed and looked wistfully at the entrance of the hideout—a large, bolted door. "Wonder why she took Poke with her. The guy has no taste in weapons. Something tells me that we're going to have an influx of flame-throwers soon."

"Flame-throwers are pretty fun, but what I like best is a good old-fashioned rifle. The sniper kind. Remember when we used to go hunting when we were kids, Henshaw?"

"Oh yeah," Henshaw sighed. "That was something else."

"I don't mind rifles," Cutter said. "They're a whole lot better than knives. That's one thing I don't like about the boss. It's always knives with him. He just likes to drag things out."

"Harley seems to have taken to using knives as well."

"Harley…Harley just adopts it from him. Her delight for knives comes directly from his own delight. He's shaped her tastes, in a way."

"Harley…man, what a gal…I've never seen someone so loyal—"

"—Or determined—"

"—Or deadly—"

"—Or childish," Cutter said, interrupting them. "She needs to learn some self-control. I worry that she'll wind up getting hurt if she keeps on acting purely out of emotion."

Rocco laughed. "You always are worrying about her! She'll be okay, Cutter. She's certainly proven herself to be tougher than expected."

"All the same, I wish she was a bit more grounded. Back when she was the boss's hostage, she was much more level-headed."

Henshaw stared out into space, tilting his head slightly. "She just loves the boss. That's all there is to it. I suppose he is what drives her."

"Did he also drive her to act like a childish girl-woman?"

"No…I think that formed up all on its own. Maybe she was always really that way and just wouldn't show it. From what I hear, she didn't have the best childhood…"

"None of us did," Rocco said quietly and they all nodded.

"Well, maybe I'd better go check up on the boss to see if he's okay. Why don't you two—"

The entrance door slammed open and the three of them jumped. Poke swaggered drunkenly in and leaned against the wall. He was smiling like a maniac and his hair flopped messily in his face. From the rapidness of his breathing, Cutter could tell that he was exhausted.

"Poke? What happened? Where were you?"

"It was glorious," Poke crooned. "The fire…the beautiful, brilliant fire…"

"Fire? What are you talking about? Where's Harley?"

A shadow loomed into the room and every heart turned cold. Harley came forward and stared at them blankly, her baby-blue eyes frozen in a sort of savage trance. The white war-paint on her face was smeared and the dark markings around her eyes ran down her cheeks like tears. Her blonde hair was wild and the two pigtails had almost come loose. And if that wasn't enough of a discomforting sight, her lips were pulled back into an eerie smile, stretching demonically across her face. If she had possessed any scars, she would have looked just like the Joker.

"Harley," Cutter said gently as he came towards her, almost expecting her to fall into his arms. Instead, she walked passed him and stared into space, still grinning spookily. Taking in her scent, he could smell smoke and burning wood. It was then that he noticed that parts of her outfit were singed and covered in ash.

He placed a hand on her should, turning her around to face him. "Harley, what happened?"

The blank, spaced-out look in her eyes seemed to clear up and she blinked, her smile faltering a little. "Cutter…"

"What's this fire Poke was talking about? Where have you been?"

"We went to see Crane," she breathed, finally coming to her senses. "We ran into a bit of trouble there."

"Trouble?"

"Oh yes…we had ourselves a little bat problem…"

"But Harley took care of it," Poke said shakily. "Harley burned down the whole place and we managed to get away."

The cousins looked at each other in dismay, unable to find words. Cutter stared at the weary woman, trying to see if it was giddiness or fright that was on her face.

"Harley?"

"…"

"Harley, what happened? Tell me."

She cocked her head and stared up at him, almost as if she were trying to make sense of his words. Perhaps the inhalation of smoke had made her sluggish. Then, she looked over at Poke and the cousins and gave them a nod.

"Leave, you three. I want to talk to Cutter."

Poke shrugged, herded Rocco and Henshaw away, and Cutter was left alone with Harley. The woman wrapped her arms around her stomach and hugged herself, almost as if she were cold.

"How's Mr. J? Did he wonder where I was at?"

"He went back to sleep. Should he know where you were at?"

"Nuh uh. Nope. It's going to be a secret, got it?"

"Harley," he said seriously, putting both hands firmly on her shoulders. "What were you trying to do? What _are_ you planning?"

She smiled and put her hands on top of his. "Something wonderful, Cutter. I'm going to do what everyone has been dreaming of for a long time. I'm going to kill the Batman."

"But how? Look at yourself, Harley…you're exhausted and half-singed! And that's just from trying to escape from him. How do you intend on killing him?"

She yawned, releasing herself and doing a drunken cartwheel. "I have my ways, Cutter. It's all beginning to form up right here in my noggin. Once I fully piece things together, I'll give you all the layout of what we're going to do."

She did another cartwheel, then sat down and leaned up against the wall, closing her eyes tiredly.

"You should tell me before running off," he told her. "Poke can be reliable, but he's not _that_ reliable. You could get yourself killed if you're not careful."

"…"

"Harley? Are you listening?"

"…Hey, Cutter…have I ever killed anyone?"

He grunted, frustrated with her lack of acknowledgement to his warnings. "Did you even hear me?"

"Have I or haven't I?"

He thought for a moment. In those past heists they pulled, people had gotten killed. Yet for some reason, he had no memory of Harley ever pulling a trigger or slicing a throat. True, she had _attempted_ to kill, but to attempt was one thing and to actually take a life was another.It was strange, but unless she had killed someone privately, her slate was actually just as clean as anyone else's.

"Not that I know of," he replied. "Why?"

Her eyes snapped open and glittered in excitement. That spooky grin was back, lighting up her face as she ran over and pulled at his arms in enthusiasm.

"That's it! The ultimate joke! That's it!" She laughed elatedly, dancing him around.

"What is it? What do you mean?"

She grinned darkly. "Ole Batsy actually thinks he can tear me away from Mr. J. He goes up and down about 'saving me'. What a fool!"

"And? The point of this?"

Her eyes shined. "He will be the one," she said. "He will be my first real kill. That shall be my biggest oath, my strongest vow. Won't it be a hoot, Cutter? The one who claims that he wants to save me will be the first one to taint my soul! Won't that be a real gagger? Won't it be a scream?"

"Sure," he replied uncomfortably, inching himself out of her grasp. He didn't like how frantic she sounded, how off-the-wall her voice was getting. Somehow, it had slipped up an octave—becoming high and clownish.

She giggled and hugged him. "Oh Cutter, Mr. J will be sooo pleased!"

"I'm sure he will. Why don't you go to bed, Harley?"

"Oh, I can't now. I've got things to do. Things to plan."

"You can plan them later," he said gently. "Right now you should take a bath and get some sleep. You're worn-out and disoriented. You need some rest."

Finally, it appeared that his rationality had reached her. She cocked her head and nodded.

"Alright. Okay. You're right. It's night-night. Yes." She yawned again and sighed. Before she left, she turned and smiled at him sleepily. "It will be glorious, Cutter. It'll be the best joke ever."

"Go to sleep."

"Right. G'night."

And then she was gone, giggling under her breath the whole way.

Cutter ran a hand through his hair rubbed his forehead to quell the headache that was beginning to form.

"Damnit, I need a cigarette…"


	10. The Raid at Arkham

"Where are you going to now?" Mr. J barked grumpily at her. "I need someone here to give me my meds!"

"You'll be okay, Puddin'. You just had your meds an hour and a half ago. Don't you remember?"

He leaned back against the pillow and pouted. "Feh. Where the hell are you going anyway? Why are you bringing weapons?"

_Poor thing. He wants to come._

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, trying to soothe him. "We're just going out for some…training. A little bit of _wholesome_ exercises. You can't come along, sweetie. You're still too sick." She kissed him again.

He growled and rolled over to his side. "Don't be too long. My cast is beginning to itch again." He sounded utterly bored, almost quietly furious. She didn't blame him. He probably was getting a bit of cabin-fever from being cooped up like this for so long. Poor, poor Mr. J.

"What's the plan?" Cutter asked her when they met up in the hall.

"Going to cause some mischief, Cutter old-buddy. We've got a message that must be delivered to Gotham and we're going to need some bait to lure in the viewers."

"Where are we going?"

Her eyes glittered. "To Arkham Asylum."

XxX

Rocco pushed past Henshaw as the five of them huddled close in the shadows, surveying the grim figure of the asylum only a few feet ahead.

"How are we getting in?" Poke whispered. "Security has doubled since the boss's breakout."

"What did you mean by bait, Harley?" Cutter said, nudging Poke out of the way.

She grinned sickly and giggled. "We need to show Gotham that we mean business. So we snatch up a doctor and hold 'em hostage at the hideout. I remember that Mr. J used a hostage whenever he made his own videos. So we grab some no-name person and use 'em."

"But why from here?"

She frowned and her eyes turned serious. "This place is where it all began. This is where Mr. J and I first met."

Cutter sighed and shook his head. "Right."

The smile flashed back on her face, this time meanly. "It would be marvelous if we managed to get Dr. Arkham himself! That would be great…"

"Let's not," Rocco said nervously. "It would be too much trouble."

"I'll bet his office is more closely guarded than anyplace else," Rocco added.

"_My_ question," Poke piped up. "Is what you plan on doing to the hostage once we're done filming? What _do _you plan on doing, Harley?"

She blinked at him dimly. "Just shut up and let's get going."

Cautiously, they made their way through the shadows towards the main entrance, halting when a group of guards trotted past. Above, the moon glowed brightly, hanging from the dark sky like a sacred ball of white fire. But the moonlight was not enough to give them away.

"When I give the signal, we take 'em out."

And they did, silencing the guards in one brutal flash of team-effort. Poke ended up getting his shirt-sleeve bloodstained, though the sight of it seemed to excite him.

They huffed as they made their way into the building, still undetected by the alarm system. They were lucky that none of the guards had sent the message that Arkham was under attack. The asylum was dimly-lit and almost deserted, prompting murmurs of doubt from Cutter.

"Harley, how are we going to get a hostage if there's no one here? I don't see any doctors. Didn't you think this through?" The whole matter was quite frustrating to him.

She glared at him, clearly annoyed. "Hush. There are doctors here. It's called 'late-shift' for a reason, you know. They just aren't in this general area of the place. We need to slink around a bit before we come across any." Then she pulled out her knife and laughed softly, making them all inch back in discomfort. "And remember, boys, we can always go and grab old Jerry if we want to. I'm actually kind of eager to see him again after all this time."

Down more hallways, then through a small area of what looked like a break-room, then finally towards the doctor's wing. Harley's breathing had turned irregular. Her pupils were dilated even though she showed no signs of wanting to faint. They could hear her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she crept ahead of them

_This place holds many memories for her,_ thought Cutter to himself. _It excites her. Oh Harley…what am I going to do with you?_

She crouched suddenly and inched only a few feet more ahead, motioning for them to stop. Cutter could feel Poke trembling next to him. It was obvious that he had seen whatever Harley had seen. Rocco and Henshaw were frozen, occasionally glancing nervously over their shoulders.

Harley licked her lips and waited for a few seconds, peeking warily around the corner. She could see a man coming—an older doctor with a balding spot. Perfect. Sure, she had wanted the victim to be Arkham, but this fellow would do nicely. She knew that the attack would give them away, but she didn't care.

_First one thing then another. Small steps. Concentrate on grabbing the poor sap first._

She steadied herself, keeping herself low like a lioness in the grass. Her prey was only inches away.

"Go!" she screamed as she hurled herself forward. The boys charged behind her, grabbing the dumbfounded doctor and placing a bag over his head.

"What the hell-? What's going on? Who are you?"

She rammed her elbow into his head, knocking him out cold. "Shut up. Less talk, more getaway. Come on, boys!"

The alarm was sounding, beeping loudly through the air. Flashes of red lit up the whole doctor's wing, prompting other night-shift doctors to flee.

Cutter slung the unconscious body over his shoulder and grunted, staring at his female-boss through the eye-holes of his clown mask. "You know the way out, right?"

Her white-painted face grinned cheekily as she moved ahead of them, cartwheeling slightly. They could hear the heavy footsteps of guards beginning to enter the wing, shouting over the pandemonium.

"Find them! Quick! Don't let them escape!"

Poke cackled and fired his gun at them, dancing a giddy sort of jig as bodies fell to the ground. Rocco and Henshaw also fired their weapons, concentrating mostly on keeping up with Harley and Cutter as they attempted to dodge the bullets that flew at them.

"Come on, Poke!" Rocco called over his shoulder. "Keep up or they'll kill you! Come on!"

Poke giggled some more but caught up with them, bounding forwards up towards Harley and Cutter.

"Where's the exit?"

"Coming up," Harley said through gritted teeth.

A whole group of guards was waiting for them as they turned the corner. Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was waiting for them. His eyes widened at the sight of her. The guards raised their weapons, but he motioned for them to hold their fire.

"Harley…you're back..."

She smiled and waved. "Hiya, Jerry. Funny we bumped into you, I was actually considering picking you up. Too bad we found someone else first." Cutter held up the unconscious body of the doctor, aiming the end of his gun at the head. "Don't make another move or else the doc here gets a lead-sandwich."

Arkham blinked at her, almost as if he could not recognize her. How changed she looked now! She was wearing that same outfit she was wearing during the night she had broken the Joker out, but now there was something really different about her. It hung on her like a vapor, like an aura that circled her body like a vulture.

_Harley…are you really too far gone for me to recognize you? All the mayhem you've caused recently…do you even realize what you're doing?_

Poke, in his impatience, shot at a shard of glass, making both parties raise their weapons in wariness.

"Oh no," Harley said softly, lowering Cutter's gun. "That's no way to act. There's no need for such violence. Let me just make things easy for you, Jerry. Let us go and your whole group of guards doesn't end up dead on this floor. There's no need to have their deaths on your conscience."

"Harley," Arkham said gruffly, staring her down. "Give up now. There are more guards here than there are your men. Give up now while you can."

She laughed. "I think not. Fire away, boys."

An onslaught of bullets raged forward, knocking guards off their feet. Some attempted to charge at them, but they were quickly wounded by Poke's deft firing. Soon, only Arkham was left.

Arkham looked down at the bodies at his feet, trembling as she came towards him with her knife.

"I told you," she whispered hotly, holding the knife up to his throat. "I warned you about crossing us. Now you can have yourself to blame for their deaths."

"Don't kill me," Arkham murmured. "You don't want to do this."

She grinned. "Don't worry," she said as she smashed the butt of the knife on the side of his head, knocking him out. "I actually have yet to kill someone. See ya around, Jerry."

They made their way out of the building and into their vehicle, charging through the streets as the old familiar roar of police sirens echoed in the distance. Once again, they had come out alright.

Harley smirked widely as she leaned back in the backseat, eyeing the unconscious form of the captive doctor.

_The fun has yet to begin!_


	11. A Message to Gotham

It hadn't been a good day for Dr. Ray Jennings.

First, his patients were in foul moods, then he had spilled his coffee all over his coat, then he discovered that his paperwork was overdue. Suffice to say, he had no idea that things could get worse. In trying to work overtime to finish his paperwork, he had managed to get himself in a real jam of a situation.

Ray had been unconscious for a while, breathing roughly underneath a hot, thick bag over his head. When he had finally come to, he was tied-up to what felt like a chair, bound tightly by the wrists. Almost immediately, a wave of helplessness surged through him, as he heard voices whispering in the background.

They were men's voices—gruff, low ones that spoke softly to each other. Then a female's piped up. There was something chillingly familiar about it…something at the tip of his tongue. He recognized the voice despite the deranged quality it possessed.

_Where am I? Oh Jesus, what's going on?_

More whispering. The woman's voice sounded very excited—eager for something. Damnit, why did her voice sound so familiar? He swore he recognized it from somewhere…

Suddenly, the bag was removed and Ray blinked at the harsh light. They were in some sort of vacant, run-down room (a motel room perhaps?) and the walls were crumbled and bullet-streaked. A video camera was being shoved on his face.

Ray began to tremble.

XxX

At approximately nine o'clock, the Gotham City News channel was frantic with buzz. An unknown video had been sent in in the last hour…a video of disturbing, yet familiar content. Everyone in the city was glued to their television screens—parents clutching protectively to their children, teenagers scoffing in disgust, and elders shaking their heads.

"Hello, Gotham," a high, female voice hissed on the screen. "It's been a while, hasn't it? To tell you the truth, I was disappointed at how little coverage I got for that little heist on Gotham National Bank. A pity. But perhaps you didn't recognize me then. Hell, the last time I got full coverage on the news was when _I_ was the one in trouble."

The shot cut to Ray tied-up in the chair, shaking and shivering in fear at the camera as if it were a deadly weapon.

The woman resumed. "Perhaps some of you don't know me. But you're all about to…" She twisted the camera around and revealed herself. All across the city, people stared at the white war-paint, dark eye-markings, and black lips that were stretched up into a malevolent grin. The woman's blue eyes seemed to glow, basking all the viewers in their depths.

"I am Harley Quinn. And you…are all a bunch of fools. You thought that you could take on the Joker, the true king of this city…Ha! What a joke! You underestimated him. You never realized that he had an ace in the hole all this time. And that ace in the hole is me."

Ray tried to scream through the gag in his mouth, nearly wetting himself as the camera zoomed in closer to him. That voice…Harley Quinn? No, he knew her somehow, but by a different name. Could it really be…Dr. Harleen Quinzel? Could it be the fellow doctor he had known a while back? He had never really associated with her. To the rest of the staff, she had been resented for her spunk and friendship with Dr. Arkham. Even he had taken part in mocking her. It was all coming back to him as he shook in terror: the quiet whisperings about her in the halls, the mean snickers he shared with the others as Harleen's face fell in lonely grief.

_Yes…I remember her…She treated the Joker…and broke him out weeks after she was rescued from him._

That explained the Harlequin-esque getup she was wearing now. She looked like a female version of the Joker, minus a few physical differences in her body and costume.

"I'm very patient," Harley was saying at the camera, pacing back and forth around Ray. "I don't expect the GCPD to find me any time soon in the near future. This challenge is more reserved to the Batman."

She leaned in close, staring straight at the screen with that wide, eerie grin of hers. "I'm talking to you, Batsy. I challenge you to try to defeat me. The more time you waste, the more people are going to get hurt. So really, it all rides on you. Now won't this be fun? After what you did to Mr. J, I'm going to see to it that everyone gets involved. If you don't try to defeat me, I'll see to it that more people are killed just like this fellow here will be. It's up to you what to do. Think on it very carefully."

She giggled softly and turned away. "I'm done. Turn it off."

The camera was put away and the henchmen hovered over Ray, staring down at him in grim silence. Well, at least the cousins were. Poke was grinning like a madman and was shaking in excitement. Cutter went over and whispered a few things in Harley's ear, perhaps asking her something.

"Remove his gag," Harley told Cutter. Then Cutter went over and did what was asked of him, allowing Ray to finally get the chance to speak.

"Let me go! What are you going to do to me?"

Harley strode over and patted him roughly on the head. "I want to thank you for helping us get the message to Gotham. Because of you, everyone is going to pay attention to us now."

Ray looked up at the woman and stared into her face, trying to find a person behind that demonic, clownish war-paint. "Harleen? Don't you know me? We were co-workers. We were both doctors."

She frowned and blinked at him. "…"

"You must know me! Our offices were only a few doors down. We often passed by each other in the hallway."

"…I remember you. You were one of the doctors that treated Crane." Her gaze hardened. "You were one of those stuck-up jerks that talked about me."

"Harleen—"

"You _were_. Oh yes, I remember. You used to laugh at the gossip the others said about me. You were in it just as much as everyone else was."

Wave of regret spread through him, making him realize what an ass he had been to her in the past. She was right to dislike him…he had helped spread unkind rumors about her, had made fun of her behind her back.

Harley moved forward and glared at him. Their noses were close enough to almost touch. "You're an asshole, Ray. You always were. You and those miscreants you hung around with."

He could feel his eyes watering in dread. "Please, Harleen! I'm sorry! I know I acted wrongly towards you, but please don't hurt me! I'm so, so sorry!"

She laughed loudly and prodded his cheek painfully. "Of course you are! Why not? After all, _you're _the one tied-up. Right now, I'll bet you're the sorriest man in the whole world." She laughed again, sending chills up his spine.

_God, what's happened to her? Can the Joker really affect someone this much?_

He remembered the way she used to be—a timid little brunette with large round eyes and an eager-to-please smile. How could he have been so unkind to her?

"Harleen…what's happened to you? How could the Joker change you so much?"

She did a backwards cartwheel. "Oh, but that's the real gagger, doc. I was always this way. Mr. J just gave me the little nudge I needed to find myself."

_A little doctor with baby-blue eyes, staring into space. Her hands are trembling as she stared wistfully at her fellow doctors, longing to join them in conversation._

He shook his head. "That isn't true! You weren't like this in the beginning, Harleen! When I look back, you were better than the others! You're not like this!"

"Oh, but I am. And you're about to find out just how wrong you are…"

He gulped. "What are you going to do to me?"

She eyed him warily, almost boredly. "Probably kill you. No wait…that would be breaking my Vow. So then I'll probably have Poke kill you. The man looks like he's itching to shed some blood."

Poke squealed and nodded vigorously in agreement.

Ray gulped again, trying his best not to urinate in his pants. "Harleen…please. I'm sorry."

"HA! You're not sorry. But what does it matter now? I never really needed any of you. My Puddin' was all I ever really needed. It was the jerks like you that made me realize how much better he is than the general public."

"Harleen—"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU ALL?" She shrieked at him. "MY NAME IS HARLEY QUINN!"

She darted forward and he yelped when her knife pointed only inches from his face. In shame, he could feel warm moistness dripping down the legs of his pants, making him whimper softly.

Harley turned away and lowered the knife. Her eyes were hidden, not really looking at anything anymore. Was it regret? Sadness? Ray didn't know.

"Harleen," he tried one last time. "Please. Don't kill me. I can help you. We can start things all over again."

"…"

"Harleen…you know me…I will help you work things out. Just trust me…"

"No," she said quietly. "No, I don't know you. I don't know you at all."

"Harleen-!"

"Poke," she said in a quivering voice. "Do what you want. I'm done for now." And she walked away, not looking back for a minute.

Poke giggled maniacally and raised his knife to Ray's throat. Ray knew that it was over for him. He was getting what he deserved.

_Harleen…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm-_

Then everything went red. Dr. Ray Jennings thought no more.


	12. Loyalty

She spent the next few days keeping a sharp eye on the media, listening to the buzz that her video had created. It brought a genuine smile to her face to see how much people were beginning to panic. The GCPD had ordered a meticulous search throughout the city but, like usual, they weren't going to find anything. Harley had made sure that they were too well-concealed.

"Lookit all the sheep on TV," she whispered to Sammy, snuggling him close to her. "Don't they look silly for believing in their police force? Gothamites really have no sense."

Sammy only stared.

"I bet they don't really have a real plan, though that Gordon guy seems to be the only one who's proposing anything. Maybe we'll give him a visit one of these days."

Bored, she leaned back on the couch and scratched herself idly, yawning when nothing interesting appeared on the news channel. Occasionally, she would see news flashes on the Batman and that was always interesting. But today, it seemed that no one was interested in the poor fellow. Her video had garnered too much attention to the point where even someone as talked-about as the Batman was overshadowed.

On the television, an ad for the latest fitness item played and Harley felt herself slinking away out of the room. Television had always sort of bored her and she saw no real point in watching now if there wasn't anything new or interesting on.

Still cuddling Sammy, she made her way down the gloomy halls of the warehouse-lair towards the room that Mr. J resided in. She could use the sight of him to make her feel happy. Ever since she allowed Poke to kill that meanie doctor-hostage that they had kidnapped, she felt as if some part of her was hurting on the inside. Maybe it was just her imagination.

She sucked in a breath of air when she got to the doorway, listening to the sound of her heart beating faster at the thought of seeing her beloved Puddin'. Smiling, she turned the knob, only to let out a shriek as Mr. J stumbled forward.

"Ack! Mr. J? What's going on?"

Mr. J hobbled forward and began to fall. Swiftly, she managed to catch him and support him up, almost melting under the pleasurable weight of his arm as she walked him over back towards the bed.

"Hah hah…Just wanted to get going. Got place to go, people to see…"

"No ya don't. You still haven't fully recovered yet! Come on, back in bed…" She helped him over and attempted to get him settled down. He responded by growling and roughly shoving her away.

She stood over him and pouted, almost hurt by his grumpy behavior. "I'm sorry you want to move around, Mr. J, but you just aren't fully strong enough yet. Your leg needs a lot more healing before you can start walking on it again."

He looked up at her and frowned. His eyes looked dark, almost dangerous. "Where have you been the past couple of days?"

"What do you mean? I've been right here. I haven't been anywhere."

The corners of his scarred mouth stretched back into an ugly sneer. "Yes you have. The boys have been awfully rowdy lately and that usually happens when heists have occurred. What have you been doing?"

She tried to give him a sheepish smile but found that her hands were trembling at the sound of the iciness in his voice. She didn't like how displeased he sounded. "Me an' the boys have just been…out. You know, just making sure that Gotham doesn't forget who you are. We've been making some mischief all around the city in your honor."

He leaned forward until their noses almost touched. His breathing was rapid, almost animalistic. "Did I say you could do that?"

"N-no," she squeaked, frightened.

"Then, why are you messing around in _my_ city?"

"I w-was just m-making sure that everything will b-b-be nice and set up for y-you once you're w-well enough to make a comeback. It's all for you, Mr. J."

He snarled and swatted her roughly upside the head. Though he hadn't done it very hard, it still hurt and she recoiled back, sniffling like a wounded child. She was such a bad, bad girl.

"What I don't want," he said darkly. "Is for you to get carried away. If you are an agent of chaos, you never want to become a victim to it. I'm not going to have you ruin everything."

"I wasn't ruining anything, Mr. J! Honest! I haven't been doing anything too risky. And the Batman hasn't even shown up once in all our heists." She knew she was lying, but perhaps it was all for the best.

Mr. J cocked his head thoughtfully and blinked at her, inspecting her face closely. "So…you haven't been messing with the Batman?"

"Of course not," she lied. "Batsy is such a coward!"

Mr. J's frown grew larger. "That doesn't sound like him."

"Well, to be honest, we've been able to get away from the scene long before he's even able to show up. I make sure that we're nice and fast." She gave him a wide, phony smile, hoping that it won him over.

To her surprise, it did. He opened his arms wide to her, grimacing slightly from the pain of his wounded arm, and grinned.

"Come here, Harley-girl. If you say that you haven't been messing with the Batman, then Daddy isn't angry with you. Come on. Come here, my pet."

Squealing happily, she moved forward and nuzzled him closely, careful not to disturb the injured parts of his body.

_I know I wasn't telling him the whole truth about my plans for the Batman,_ she thought as she purred in his embrace. _But what can it hurt? It is better this way. Poor Puddin' shouldn't have to worry about it. And it is my duty to see to it that he isn't stressed out while he's recovering. After all, isn't that what being his girl is all about? Isn't it what loyalty is all about?_

Despite her discomfort from the conflicting feelings in her mind, she allowed herself to push them away for the sake of Mr. J. She was just glad to see that she had managed to assuage him. The last thing she wanted to do was get on his bad side. If she did, she knew that she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.

Mr. J held her for a while and played with her hair, twirling it around in his fingers in that familiar way of his. And she allowed herself to be petted and cooed over, happy to just be in the arms of her lover.

But what she didn't know was that she was making a big mistake. Though neither of them knew it yet, a storm was coming.

For now, it was only starting to brew.


	13. Another Hostage

For four days, all of Gotham City was helpless and terrified as Harley and her team performed one successful heist after another. And curiously, the Batman was nowhere to be seen. There were sightings of him perched atop several rooftops, but no real proof. Of course, Harley could guess why he hadn't shown up—he was probably still recovering from the wounds he had received during their battle at Crane's warehouse. The poor bastard had probably received some serious burns from the fire.

_All the same,_ she thought. _You'd think that he'd have recovered by now!_

Speaking of recovery…

Her Mr. J was getting stronger and stronger each passing day. Already, he was beginning to be able to move about on crutches. She wouldn't be surprised if he was fully healed-up by the end of the month.

Crouching down now, she smiled happily to herself as she and her boys prepared to cause some havoc. Today's assignment was an easy one. Bored with holding up banks, Harley had led her team towards the park district with the idea of just messing around. Fire some bullets, have some fun, get some attention. Stuff like that. Besides, it would be a good way of getting the Batman to notice them.

So they went into the area with guns a-blazing, making people scream and run frantically to safety. Harley giggled as she watched all the people clamber over themselves as they ran in all directions. Poke aimed a few bullets at several pedestrians, nearly shooting a man in the head as he ran blindly. Cutter sighed behind his clown mask, clearly unamused by this act of random violence and began inspecting all nearby rooftops for any signs of the Batman. The cousins made themselves useful by grabbing onto a nearby woman and holding her as they brought her over to Harley.

"Lookie what we caught," Rocco said with mean gleefulness as he and Henshaw held the woman. "Do we need another hostage, Harley? This one is awfully pretty."

The woman, a pretty redhead, sneered at her captors. She was wearing an unsightly gardening apron that was stained with dirt. "Let me go. Get your hands off me!"

Harley leaned forward and fixed the woman with a mischievous grin. "I've seen you before. You're the wacko who's always floundering around here for weeds!"

The woman, clearly not afraid of Harley, simply glared and said nothing.

"Should we take her in as a hostage?" Henshaw asked.

"Nah. We don't need any. Let her go." So the cousins reluctantly let go of the woman, who dashed off. But not before tipping her head over her shoulder and giving them the finger.

"Freaks!"

Harley chortled and decided to continue with their mayhem-making, feeling much like the leader of a ruthless band of pirates pillaging a village. They knocked over fountains and fired at random buildings, throwing smoke-bombs and mini-fireworks all around to make everyone disoriented.

"Isn't this fun, Cutter?" she asked her silent companion as she lit another firework. "Look at all the poor fools scatter about like trapped rodents. They look so silly."

"To tell you the truth, this is kind of meaningless, Harley. There doesn't seem to be any real point behind this activity."

She pouted and leaned against him. "You know, only you can get away with saying that, Cutter. _I_ think this is pretty fun. After all, we needed something amusing to take part in while Batsy is AWOL."

"Senseless chaos is amusing?"

She glared at him. "Mr. J would like it."

"I don't always agree with what the boss likes."

She shrugged. "Oh well. Perhaps I should've kept that redhead. Maybe a hostage situation would keep you better entertained. I could have made another video for GCN."

Smiling childishly, she pulled out Sammy from the bag that hung around her shoulder and held it in front of her.

"What do you think, Sammy? Should we find someone else who can be a hostage or should we just keep throwing random explodey-things around? Uh huh. Yeah. Uh huh. Okay. Guess what, Cutter? Sammy says we should get another hostage. Looks like he's just as bored as you are!"

"…" Cutter stared at her through the eyeholes of his mask and said nothing. Was it worried concern that reflected in his eyes? She decided that it really didn't matter.

A small figure scampered through the haze created from the smoke-bombs and Harley's heart fluttered with excitement. "Look," she whispered to Poke. "There's a poor potential hostage now. Let's grab 'im."

Poke giggled quietly through his mask and followed her lead. They charged at the figure and roughly pulled the person forward.

"Let go, let go, let goooooo!"

It was a kid. A little kid. A little blonde-haired boy with freckles that was about seven years old or so. His cheeks were streaked with tears and his eyes streamed like an endless flowing river. His rocket-ship themed shirt was torn and caked with dirt and chocolate ice-cream stains.

And his Mommy and Daddy were nowhere to be seen.

The little kid stared up at Harley's white war-painted face and shivered. His tear-filled eyes widened and his mouth quivered. It seemed that in Gotham, even the young could recognize the face of a dangerous criminal.

"P-please, lady," he whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."

Harley grinned and leaned forward; delighted to see how frightened the child got when she came closer. Poke held the child firmly by the arms and grinned just as delightedly.

"Hey, little guy. Wanna go on a trip?"

The child shook his head and quivered.

"You like the type of brat that just _loves _adventure. I think we'll just take you along with us now."

Then the boy began to wiggle frantically, howling with fright in Poke's grasp as they began to drag him away towards the van they had travelled in.

"You won't get away with this! The cops are gonna catch you and take you to jail!"

"No they won't," Harley said with a smirk as they tossed the kid into the backseat. "Time to grow up, junior. The cops here are about as useful as a brain-damaged guard-dog. No one is going to save you."

The child wailed loudly as they zoomed off, heading back towards the hideout. Cutter had removed his clown-mask and was now steering, trying to ignore the sounds of the child's protest in the backseat.

"Harley," Rocco said, whispering in her ear. "Are we really going to kill the twerp? We've never killed kids before."

Harley bit her lip and thought about it. She still had yet to kill anyone and killing a kid would make almost as much a statement as killing the Batman would. Maybe…

A part of her, a small, thought-to-be-dead part of her seemed to cry out within her. It whimpered and tugged at her heartstrings. Could it be the lingering presence of Dr. Harleen Quinzel—still inside of her after all this time?

"We'll see," was all she was able to reply as she turned her eyes back towards the road, listening to the child's sniffles.

Poke, on the other hand, seemed eager to kill the boy. The brat had given him one hell of a kick to the shins that he wouldn't soon forget. He hoped that Harley would let him be the one to do the killing like last time.

Suddenly and without warning, a loud bang was heard and the van skidded into a nearby wall. The cousins cried out and called Harley's name, asking what the hell was going on. The child screamed and was silenced by Harley's hand over his mouth as they all listened to the loud speaking outside.

"This is the Gotham City Police! Come out with your hands up."

_Huh,_ Harley thought as she held the kid tighter. _Looks like we've driven into a trap. Sounds like Gordon's work. After all, he's the only really efficient cop in Gotham from what I've heard._

She stared at the shaking kid that was whimpering in her grasp and she smiled.

"We'd better do what they tell us to do, boys."

"Are you crazy?" Cutter yelled. "They'll kill us."

"Oh no they won't. We've got something valuable here." Her fingers dug into the child's shoulder.

Cutter blinked and stared at the child, letting her words sink in. Finally, he nodded in affirmation. "Alright."

"Get ready, boys," she whispered softly. "We don't want things getting too messy."

And she opened the door to the van and, leading the child forward, stepped out.


	14. Weakness

Almost instantly, a raging fire of bullets zipped towards them, making them scramble like a pack of bewildered rabbits as Harley led them forward. The child was screaming and squirming in terror as she pulled him by the wrist.

Snarling, Poke pulled out his gun and fired it at the GCPD members. Cutter raced to his side and fired also, hitting several men in the process. With the Commissioner's attention focused on Cutter and Poke, Harley was able to move forward, Rocco and Henshaw at her heels. Dragging the boy with all her might, she and the cousins leapt forward into the shadows of an alleyway, slinking up the nearest fire-escape and making their getaway.

From above, Harley began firing down below at the men, hitting several in the shoulders and legs. She giggled at their startled cries of pain, leering over at the Commissioner's pale face as he looked up at her in disbelief. Poke and Cutter saw this as their chance and dashed around a corner, running down the block.

"Let the boy go," the Commissioner said through the megaphone he was holding.

Harley grinned and stuck out her tongue. "Nope. Sorry, Commish. The brat comes with me. Keep firing and I'll see to it that he gets hit instead of us. Wanna send out a few test-fires to see if I'm lying?"

The lines on the Commissioner's face grew more prominent with frustration and she knew that she had him.

"Men," Commissioner Gordon said in a choked voice. "Hold fire…"

Her grin widened. "Thanks a heap, Gordo! But just to make sure that you don't follow us…" She threw her patented smoke-bomb at them and giggled as she and her companions loped away on the rooftops.

"Men, keep moving! Maybe we can still catch them."

Smiling over her shoulder, Harley knew that they wouldn't.

XxX

Cutter and Poke met them again under an overpass. They were both panting, but glad to have been mostly unharmed. Cutter had a small wound on his face from where a bullet had just grazed him, but he seemed to be at ease and ready to do whatever was asked of him.

"Seems like all we do is run," Poke said snidely, leaning against the wall as the sound of cars blared above. "Without the Bat around, it's getting awfully boring having to just evade the GCPD. We should try to heat things up a little. Bring a little fire next time…"

The boy was still squirming, trying to bite Harley's grasp away as she still held him. Poke's eyes locked on the child's and he sauntered forward, giving the young fellow a malicious grin.

"What should we do with the squirt now that we don't have transportation back to the hideout? He's just useless to us now. Should I take care of him, Harley?"

"Not just yet. We might need him for later use. Spread out and look for transportation. If there's a parked van nearby, I know Rocco could certainly hotwire it."

Rocco blushed and smiled. He was good at hotwiring.

Suddenly, the little brat managed to actually wriggle away from her grip, running drunkenly forward up the slant that connected the overpass.

Harley ran after him, her eyes blazing. The kid sure could run for someone with such little legs. It was like chasing a small, quick mouse. The boy was breathing hard and was clearly panicking because he was beginning to run dangerously close to the…

_Road…road!_

In one great leap, she dove forward and caught the boy by the hood of his small yellow jacket just as a speeding car whizzed by, pulling him back and tossing him roughly to the ground once she had pulled him back under the over pass. Her boys were silent and said nothing.

"Dumb brat! You wanna get torn to pieces? Those cars will waste you more painfully than any bullet. Little idiot."

The boy looked up and blinked. "You…you…"

She snarled and knocked him to the ground with her foot. But the twerp still stared up at her with a sort of sick wonder. It was if he had seen her for the first time.

"Why'd…why'd you…?"

Cutter came forward and touched Harley's shoulder. "You're breathing kind of hard. Harley. No one can see us. Let's rest her for a while."

"…"

"Do you still want us to set out right away? If we're bringing the lad that means that we've got to look for a van that can seat six of us."

"…No. Let's just rest here for a while."

Cutter nodded and walked away, pushing the other with him.

"Great," Poke muttered under his breath. "It looks like I'm not going to be spilling any blood after all."

Harley towered over the boy, flaring her nostrils like an animal. She wasn't holding onto him anymore, but the boy wasn't trying to run. Why?

"You saved me," the boy breathed.

She glared at him and sniffed. "Feh. I didn't want you dead because I'm just going to kill you later after I broadcast another little video to GCN."

"You're not really…a bad lady after all, are you?"

"Of course I'm bad!" she screamed, shoving him hard into the ground again. "You're mommy should have told you more about me. I'm not about to do that kind of thing again, ya brat. You'll be worm-food in a few hours."

"You're lying," he said with large, all-knowing eyes. "You don't want to."

She gasped and growled low in her throat, pulling out her knife and pinning him to the ground as she held it up to his throat. "What about now then, huh? Are you going to make me break my Vow? I bet you would. Brats like you are born to torment me. It would be better if you weren't alive."

There. That would do it. The brat _had_ to have been scared by all that. After all, he'd been so annoyingly frightened in the events beforehand. But to her disbelief, he was actually silent and staring at her with what looked like…

_Pity? __**Pity?**_

"My mommy always says that there's good in everybody. You were good. You kept me safe."

She pulled away, her hands shaking. "Damnit. Shut up."

"You're working for that clown-man, right? Why are you working for him if you aren't really a bad lady?"

Her eyes were blue ice as she stared at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to stay out of other people's business?"

He smiled. "Nope. Ha ha!"

He was laughing. Was this for real?

"You sound awfully cheery for someone in the company of a wanted criminal. You were screaming your head off a few minutes ago."

"But I see now that you're not a bad one."

"…"

"Please let me go? I won't tell anyone about this, not even my best buddies, Johnny and Keith from class. Please?"

"Why should I? You're a hostage."

"But why? Why do you want to do that to me?"

"You're one of the fools that this city breeds. You'll grow up to be just as blind and foolish as all the others. You'll take misunderstood people like my Mr. J and lock him up. Your kind is nothing but a bunch of savages."

"Then why are you the one holding the knife?"

"Shut up! Because of idiots like you, my poor Puddin' has to suffer day in and day out! All because of your blindness and ignorance."

He crept forward and tugged on her sleeve, staring into her eyes. "But lady…I haven't done anything. Why are you so angry?"

"…"

"Please tell me! You don't have to be so angry. My mommy always tells me to listen to what others have to say. So why are you angry? Let me help you…like you helped me."

His eyes were filled with a compassion she hadn't seen in a long time. It was right then and there that she realized that she wasn't just staring into the eyes of a little boy. She was staring at _herself_.

_Kill him. Kill him now. The hell with your Vow. _

But she couldn't. The little twerp had done something to her…softened her slightly. As Dr. Harleen Quinzel, she had always liked children. Sure, she didn't know how to really interact with them, but she had liked them all the same. The non-bratty ones that was. This child, this odd little boy…he understood her somehow. She didn't know why, but the squirt actually saw through her.

And no matter how much Harley Quinn screamed for his blood, Harleen Quinzel wouldn't allow her to slice the knife into him.

In silent anguish, she turned her back towards him. "Go. Go home to your mom. Don't ever speak of us."

"Huh?"

"Go home! Leave me! Get lost."

He blinked and cocked his head. She turned and gave him a sad smile.

"I can't kill you I guess. You better scram before I change my mind."

He backed away and stared at her solemnly. Before scampering off, he whispered softly to her. "I'm sorry." And then he was gone.

She crouched and sat there in silence for a few minutes, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of cars. Then she got to her feet and went over to where her crew was waiting.

"Where's the kid?"

"I let him go. He was too much of a hassle anyway."

Poke seemed to be about to protest, but Cutter hushed him as he stepped forward.

"We should get going now. I think there's an SUV parked in that alleyway over there. We can use that to get back."

"Yeah. Let's go."

She was silent the whole way during the ride back to the hideout.


	15. Night Thoughts

_"The answer is simple: play the victim."_

Harley rolled on her side and thought a while in the darkness as Crane's words came back to her. At her side, half-growling, half-snoring, was her Mr. J. His wounds had almost fully healed up and he had mastered getting around with the crutches. He could even move his broken arm somewhat fluidly.

The only problem with the recovery of his body movements was that he kicked when he slept. Harley had spent most of the night being knocked around by his lurching feet as he moved around in his slumber, occasionally giggling under his breath.

"_If I were you, I'd try to convince him that you've reformed, that you've seen the 'error of your ways'."_

Crane's piece of advice was beginning to rattle around in her head a lot more frequently these days. After letting that boy go free the past few days ago, she had begun to realize how much more unlike her Puddin' she was. Unlike Mr. J, she was still weak and soft. She still seemed to possess traces of her former self still lingering about her, pushing her back. She knew that she could never fully wield the weapon of darkness and power that her Mr. J could. She was, and always would be, beneath him.

But she could use that to her advantage.

"_Then, when he's least expecting, you strike and kill him. Even if you are Joker's main squeeze, you're still a woman. Therefore, it might be easier to convince him."_

It was a perfect plan, an idea worth keeping. If the Batman truly wanted her to reform, perhaps that was all she needed to push him into a trap.

And then she'd kill him. It was somewhat exhilarating knowing that she'd finally kill somebody. It would be the final push—the very thing to finally complete the transformation into Harley Quinn. While some part of her was still repulsed by the idea of taking a life, the other part of her was squealing for it.

Rolling over to face her Mr. J, she nuzzled him gently, smiling a bit at the way his brow furrowed in his sleep.

"Not too soon, my love. Not too soon…"

XxX

"Cutter."

"Hm?"

"Cutter. Hey, you awake?"

Poke's voice in the darkness, rousing him from thin sleep as they lay on their cots. Rocco and Henshaw were snoring in the background adding to the symphony of night-noises.

"I'm awake now," Cutter said wearily, rolling over to see Poke's large, unblinking eyes across the room. "What is it?"

"Why'd Harley have to let that little brat go the other day? I was looking forward to taking care of him."

"Are you really still moaning about that?"

"I been thinking lately, when's this big battle with the Bat going to happen? When are we finally going to finish it all once and for all?"

"Whenever Harley's ready, I suppose. Plus, the Bat hasn't been seen lately. Probably still working out those wounds from the night he fought you and Harley over at Crane's place."

"…"

"What? Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

"Does she know the boss truly? I mean, does she know how he feels…about the Batman?"

"What are you saying that the boss and the Batman…?"

"Ack! No! I mean, the boss kind of _loves_ fighting the Bat. What will happen when he finds out that his girl is plotting on killing the Batman? What shall happen to Harley, I wonder?"

"…"

Poke got up and leaned over Cutter, staring at him with those wide, calculating eyes of his. "You like Harley a lot, Cutter. You always have. If the boss were to hurt her, what would you do?"

"He won't hurt her…he cares about her—in his own way."

"You've seen the boss when he's angry. You know that he's more dangerous than a whole nest of venomous snakes put together when he gets enraged. He's apt to inflict some pain on her."

"He won't. Why would he? She's more loyal to him than all of us. She'd die for him if she could. She'd go out of her way to make him happy."

Poke's eyes glowed in an all-knowing light. "But in her efforts to make him happy, she just might end up dead in the process."

Cutter frowned and rolled on his side to face the opposite wall. He did not want to look into Poke's face. "She won't die…"

"What do we do? Should we tell her that she might be getting herself into some trouble?"

"We…we can't. I know Harley and I know that she won't listen. She can be very stubborn when she wants to be and I don't think that she'd believe me."

"…You care for her very much, don't you?"

Cutter smiled sadly in the shadows. "Yes. Yes I do. I've been worrying about this matter for days, to tell you the truth. I doubt you've really noticed, what with your bloodlust and your desire for mayhem brooding about you."

"What should we do then?"

"Nothing. For now, we do nothing at all. We listen to her and do what she says. I'll just have to hope that the boss doesn't find out."

"He's bound to find out eventually, you know."

"I know. But that's eventually and not now. I'll say this, Poke; I'm going to watch her. I'm going to try to make sure that she does not get too carried away. She so childish and impulsive, I know it will be hard, but I've got to do my best."

"And the boss?"

"I'll just have to watch him too, now won't I?"

Poke laughed, high and shrill and almost enough to wake Rocco and Henshaw. "You're such a softie, Cutter. Len was right about you."

"Len…poor fellow."

"Better him than us, as I always say. Whatever. I'm going to sleep. I've got a bloody massive headache. Good night, you old raggedy bastard. Don't let the bed-bug bite or all that rot."

"Good night, Poke."

And Cutter inhaled lightly and stared at the wall, thinking to himself for a long while. He thought of his daughter—so achingly beautiful but taken before her time—and of poor, foolish Len who had toyed with the boss for the last time on that evening a while back. But most of all, he thought of Harley with her large, trusting eyes and her passionate, wild heart that beat so desperately for the boss's affections.

He hoped to God that everything would be alright in the end.


	16. Playtime

She took him out that one blustery afternoon only a few days later in hopes of spending some quality-time with him.

Mr. J, in his usual, cranky fashion, grumbled and muttered under his breath as he ungracefully hobbled alongside her towards the door that led to the outside world. He hadn't been outside in quite some time and now with his leg and arm healing up, he was just resettling himself in interacting with what went on outside the walls of the hideout.

Harley smiled and supported him, glad to see that she really didn't need to help him at all. His leg had gotten strong enough for him to move around slightly on his own. All the same, she took great care that he didn't take a tumble. That would be bad.

"It's hot out," he complained, sniffing the air with disdain.

"But it is very windy out too, Puddin'," she chimed in, nuzzling him. He growled low in his throat and surveyed his hideout from the outside view. He wore no war-paint and his face was pale from being indoors for so long. Even his scars had paled somewhat.

But he was still beautiful to her all the same.

Licking his lips, he pointed over towards a large building in the distance.

"See that place?"

"Yes, Mr. J."

"That's where our next big attack will be. The head of the place is a fellow named Grisler and he's secretly been running an underground drug-business. His boys are actually a pretty fierce lot. I figured we'd go over there sometime and pay them a nice little visit."

"For fun, Puddin'?"

"For fun, my pet," he said with a wide grin. God, she loved that grin. It was enough to make her melt.

"Of course, we'll have to anticipate the Bat. But that's the real fun of things, I suppose. We'll fight, have some laughs…"

_Oh, Mr. J. After what I'm going to do to him, he'll never try to stop you again._

Her body trembled slightly at the thought of it, making her hunger for the sight of the Batman's limp and crumpled corpse lying before her. Perhaps she could find a way to mount his head on the wall somehow. That would be most amusing…

"Harley?"

She turned back towards her frowning lover and smiled. "Nothing, Puddin'. I was just thinkin' about things."

"Oh?" he asked with a purr, slinking around her seductively, making her giggle. "What kind of things?"

Playfully, she swatted at him and bounded a few inches away, grinning from ear to ear. "It's a big secret, Mr. J. A whopper of a surprise. But you'll love it."

He frowned again and came forward. Even while still slightly injured and unsteady, he still towered over her with frightening supremacy. "Maybe I'd like to find out. Maybe I don't like secrets."

She gulped and backed up ever-so-slightly. A distraction. She needed something to distract his attention before this got ugly. Inhaling roughly, she backed up some more and pulled the best cartwheel she could, adding a powerful front-flip to go along with it. Mr. J's eyes widened and she grinned.

"I've been practicing, Puddin'. See how much better I've gotten?"

"You certainly have." He hobbled forward and gently stroked her cheek, nipping at her like a wolf. She giggled and submitted to his embrace, glad to see that she had somehow managed to distract him. Her poor Mr. J was not as focused on things while he was in a fragile state.

"Let's go back inside, huh? I don't think I can stomach much more of this sunlight. Was it always so bright out here?"

She smiled and led him back indoors; her arm around his shoulder, propping him up. "Who knows? I think things are even about to get brighter…"

XxX

To her delight, she found a set of child's toys in the dumpster not too soon after that—perfectly good, sturdy toys that had been stupid to have been thrown away. There were a bunch of building-blocks, three toy cars, and a few small people-figures.

Laughing giddily, she cleaned them off and brought them inside, indulging herself with child-like play for a few hours.

And then things seemed to get real.

The toys began to stop feeling like toys to her—they began to feel like tools, like props for her grand plan. Yes, everything began to fall into place for her. The small, plastic people _changed. _The one with a dark shirt became the Batman, and the female became herself. The rest became her boys, discarded into the corner.

Placing the blocks all around, she lay on her stomach and grasped the two people-figures firmly in her hands, scrutinizing every detail with frantic wariness.

Moving the toy-Batman slowly forward, she gritted her teeth.

_I lead him into a trap. He'll think that I've changed…that I've completely reformed my ways and then…BAM!_

The toy-Harley pushed the toy-Batman roughly into the wall of building-blocks, causing a small avalanche of blocks to fall on top of the toy until it could be seen no more.

_I'll send him a message,_ she thought gleefully to herself._ Another video-message. I'll make it look nice and convincing. And then I'll get him alone and take my vengeance on him when I can knock him out. Or maybe I'll keep him alive for a little bit…make sure that he's fully-conscious when I kill him…make sure that he knows that he'll be my first real kill. _

Harley grinned, a wild, savage grin. Her eyes lit up in excitement and she poured a handful of more blocks on top of the figure, drowning it.

_Batman will die…he'll die…he'll DIE!_

Her breathing grew rapid and the room swam, carrying her along with it as she shakily got to her feet and danced drunkenly around the room, twirling around like a dancer onstage. Shadows and shapes blurred before her eyes and she laughed loudly and menacingly.

Falling backwards, she toppled to the ground and spent the next few minutes laying there, panting and giggling softly. Dragging herself over to the chair that Sammy rested on, she pulled him off and crawled back to her toys, holding Sammy close to her chest.

"It's all coming together, Sammy," she told him. "I think…I know what I am going to do. Once Batsy reemerges that is."

The stuffed rabbit slumped slightly, staring at her face with those blank eyes of his. He looked at her as if he were questioning her, almost accusingly.

"He'll reemerge soon," she said quietly, pulling out the toy-Batman from beneath the blocks. She tossed it up and down, watching it soar and fall. "Those wounds of his can't have been as severe as Mr. J's were. His wounds were kid's stuff compared to Mr. J's." She growled low in her throat, glaring into space at the thought of it. Then she shook her head, nodding and smiling again. "No…he'll return soon enough. And when it happens, I'll be ready. Oh yes I will. I'll show him a grand old time won't I, Sammy? All I have to do is wait…"

XxX

She didn't have to wait very long.

Four days later, news of Batman sightings were beginning to spread around Gotham City. It seemed that the caped vigilante had finally returned from whatever dark place he had been hiding in.

Harley got this news from Henshaw, who had run into her room to tell her. Rocco and Cutter had been beside him, looking anxious and bewildered and a little nervous. She had laughed and told them not to fret: this was good news and it turned out that they were not going to be all that thrown into the equation after all.

As they stared at her in confusion, Harley smiled and went back to her playthings, placing the people-figures into one of the toy-cars and promptly driving it into one of the building-block walls.

"You want us to hold back while you put the plan into action?" Rocco had asked, tilting his head.

"That's correct. This will be between me and the Bat. I'll have something better for you to do."

"Harley," Cutter murmured softly, staring into her war-painted face, searching for a glimmer of sanity in her baby-blue eyes. "What is going to happen? What are you about to do?"

She grinned and pushed a stack of building-blocks down, scattering them in all directions.

"Something wonderful," she replied.


	17. The Second Message

Harley stared out into the vast wasteland of Gotham City through the window. Occasionally she'd check her watch. The time was coming, hours away, close enough for her to touch. With every heartbeat, time passed and that meant that the hour of her great plan was growing near. She was really trying her best to enjoy it as much as possible, though her impatience was making it very difficult.

Licking her lips, she went over to the bed and stared into the face of her sleeping lover, smoothing back his wild curls and brushing her lips against his forehead tenderly. Soon, it would all be over. By the time he would wake up, her mission would already be in progress, maybe even finished.

She sighed and nuzzled him gently, staring at him with utter adoration. This was all for him. This was what she'd been planning for days. Sure, she had had her brief moments of doubt, of self-reflection that kept her from completely falling through with it. But here she was now, prepared and ready for whatever was to happen.

God, she loved him so much. It ached how much she loved him. And she was ready to do it all just for him. Even though he would not be present for it, this was just as much his night as it was hers.

_But will I really have the guts to follow through with it?_

Lately, something had been pulling her back; a bad feeling in her gut that said that she was making a big mistake. But why? Why did she feel so nervous about it? There was no real reason. Perhaps it was the lingering presence of the woman she used to be—the soul of Harleen Quinzel not wanting to be a killer.

_And do I really want to be a killer? Do I really want to cross that line? If I do, I'll finally be just like Mr. J, but will I really do it?_

No, no she had to do it. She could handle it, regardless of what the little Harleen-voice in her head said.

Her heart pounded as she thought of the sight of _his_ blood…would it be as beautiful and surreal as a dream? Or perhaps it would be just as messy and gritty as in those trashy gore-films that she had always avoided. Either way, she was hungering for it.

She checked her watch again. It was almost 8:30.

"He should have gotten it by now," she said with a malicious grin.

XxX

The Batman had gotten it alright. He had seen the message when it had been broadcasted on GCN. He remembered it clearly, every detail of it.

"Hello," Harleen Quinzel's voice had said melodiously as the camera had focused in on her face. Her war-paint was off and her eyes seemed to possess a sort of grim sobriety to them. "This tape is addressed to the one called the Batman. You know me by now, I hope. We've tangoed several times, you and I. But now, there shall be no tango. This is serious and I need you to listen."

Alfred was at his side, inspecting his healing wounds while watching the screen with him. "Do you want me to turn off the television, sir?"

"No," he said, motioning Alfred away. "I want to listen."

"I'm sending this message," Harley said on the screen. "I need your help. This game that we've been playing isn't funny anymore. Mr. J—the Joker, he's been planning something horrible for Gotham City! A bomb! I've seen it. He plans to blow half the whole city to kingdom-come!"

Alfred breathed in roughly beside him, but Bruce kept himself alert and silent. He was trying to read the girl's face, trying to see the sincerity in her eyes.

"I'm tired of all of this," Harley went on. "I'm tired of the mayhem and the fighting. I just want some peace. I don't want to fight anymore…I don't want to…fight…"

There was something real about the way she talked, almost pleading. Even if she had been trying to kill him this whole time, there was a genuine, pleading tone to her voice—almost as if Harleen Quinzel was begging him to save her, to release her from whatever spell she was caught under.

And it was convincing.

"If you get this message, I need to see you as soon as possible. I know where the bomb is and I can help you defuse it if you trust me. If you wish to save Gotham, meet me at the docks around ten-thirty. No tricks. No police. Just you and me. If there is anyone else, the Joker might get suspicious. Please…please just try to trust me…"

And the tape shut off and Bruce and Alfred were quiet for a long moment.

"Sir," Alfred said, breaking the silence. "Do you believe her?"

"I'm not completely sure, Alfred. But there was something earnest about the way she was talking to me. I almost really want to believe her."

"Do you think there is a bomb?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. The Joker has been in hiding for so long, I wouldn't be surprised. And if he means to take out the whole city, then it is no laughing matter."

"I take it then that you'll be meeting her?"

"What choice do I have? I failed in trying to find her when she had been kidnapped by the Joker, maybe she had finally seen the light. Maybe."

Alfred smiled sadly. "You genuinely want to help her, sir."

Bruce looked away and nodded. "She's dangerous and she's probably even more insane than the Joker, but she still might have a chance to reform."

"Let's hope she does."


	18. The Mousetrap

Darkness was beginning to fall over Gotham City—a large shadow that stretched all across the horizon. The full moon was looming over head like a silent silver god, watching with anticipation of the event that was about to take place by the dockside area.

For a moment there, Harley had scared herself. When she had watched herself in the video she had sent out, she almost believed the pleading in her own voice…the sincere desperation in her eyes. She had looked so…genuine. It was as if some part of her really _did_ feel the way she pretended to act on the video.

But despite these dubious notions, she pushed them at the back of her mind and sighed in the shadows, sniffing the wind and watching for the Batman to arrive. It was already almost ten-thirty and he was late. But at least there appeared to be no GCPD members around, though she had seen a few of them earlier skulking around for her.

But they wouldn't get her: this was between her and _him_.

Her blonde pigtails were caught by a sudden gust of cold air and she curled up into a tighter crouch, leaning against a set of wooden boxes for support. Best not to accidently doze off; the Bat should be arriving soon.

Staring up at the white orb of the moon in the sky, she saw her Puddin's white war-painted face grinning at her when she would bring him the Batman's head on a platter. He'd be sooo pleased with her.

_Just a little longer now…_

She sighed and touched the left side of her upper back, feeling the initials that were scarred into her flesh.

_**J + H**_

After the Batman was dead, that was the way it would always be. Just him and her living out this life of anarchy and chaos until they died. It would be glorious. It would be the dawning of a new era—an era of new mayhem and madness.

And maybe…perhaps there would be children. Lots of children. Little Harleys and Mr. Js scurrying all around Gotham, following in their father and mother's footsteps. Harley could feel herself swooning just thinking about it.

Just a bit longer and she'd soon quench the aching desire for vengeance that had tormented her for so long. Just a bit longer…

XxX

He swooped down and perched himself atop a roof overlooking the Gotham Docks. Though the air was cold and the area was slightly covered in a dense fog, he could sense her presence lurking somewhere in the darkness.

Squinting, he could see what looked like a small, feminine shadow shifting slightly in the gloom below. He blinked and went down, keeping himself as wary and as alert as possible. He had to make sure that she had shown up like she had promised, otherwise this might as well be a trap.

Sure enough, he could see twin baby-blue eyes glowing at him from the shadows and he knew that she was there. She raised her arms and instinctively, his hands went to his weapon-belt.

"Wait. Hold your horses. No need to break out the weapons. I'm not here to fight."

So he lowered his hands and stood there, towering over her. "Where's the bomb, Quinn?"

"I'm so glad you're here. We have _so much_ to discuss. The bomb, you say? Yes, the bomb. I'm going to help you find it. The Joker's gone utterly mad, you know. He threatened me about breathing a word about the bomb. But I managed to sneak out so's I could tell you everything."

"Where's the bomb?" the batman asked again in a gruff voice. He couldn't keep listening to her babble if there was something that could take out all of Gotham City.

"Right, the bomb…follow me. We're here for a reason, you know. The bomb is planted somewhere around here and it is set to go off within 48 hours."

"Alright. Show me where so—"

A storm of bullets echoed loudly overhead, making Harley shriek and cower behind the caped man, trembling. The Batman raised his head and saw a skinny, dark-haired man with large, wild eyes holding a rifle.

"Thought you could fool the boss," the man said loudly. "I'll waste you for that, Harley!"

"Poke," Harley whimpered softly in a small trembling voice. "I figured he'd try to stop me. He's crazier than a diseased animal."

"Keep behind me," the Batman told her. "I'll take care of him."

Poke fired a few more shots, barely grazing the two of them. He was grinning madly like a hyena that was going in for the kill.

The Batman wasted no time in pulling out his weapons. He charged forward with Harley behind him and flung a batarang at Poke, knocking the rifle from his hands. Poke snarled and leapt at him, clawing and biting and swinging at him with a knife.

But despite Poke's efforts, the battle was already over. Poke was subdued and apprehended, lying on the ground in an exhausted heap, bound but still grinning up at the Batman with those wide, crazed eyes of his.

It was then that the Batman noticed that Harley had disappeared from his sight. Where had she gone? Had she fled? Poke's grin was beginning to disturb him greatly.

"Hey, Batsy," a high-pitched voice said from above, making his blood turn cold. "You really should have been watching me a bit more closely."

Before he could react, a shadow swooped down on him and struck him hard on the head with what appeared to be a crowbar, making him groan and sink down to the ground. Recovering, he tried to stand up and take down the crazed woman, but she simply laughed and struck him again even harder. He could hear a cracking sound from his helmet-making his head throb even harder. She had hit him hard-hard enough to render him unconscious.

_You were fooled_, he thought to himself bitterly. _What now? What will become of you now?_

The last thing he saw was Harley Quinn's grinning face leering over him. There was a glowing murderous sort of glee in her eyes. Poke was stooping over him as well, giggling softly like a small child.

"Sweet dreams, you fool," Harley said quietly in a sickly-sweet voice, making him curse himself for ever trusting her. "Sweet dreams, sucker."

And the world turned dark and he fell into unconsciousness.


	19. Nothing But Lies

The world swam as he came to.

_Where…?_

Shadows. Wherever he was, it was very dark. And to make things worse, his arms and legs were bound by chains; keeping him from moving.

He was ashamed with himself for so foolishly thinking that he could trust Harley Quinn. What baffled him was that she had actually managed to hit him hard enough to the point of unconsciousness. But to his relief, his helmet was only cracked—thus not revealing his face.

And at least he had that.

_But where has she brought me?_

It looked like an empty warehouse not too far from the Gotham City Docks. Apparently, she had decided that it was a good enough place to kill him. He felt her eyes watching him. Turning his head weakly, he could see her staring at him in the shadows, breathing hard and hungry for his death.

"Quinn…"

"Good to see that you're finally awake!" she exclaimed, giggling as she inched forward. "I was beginning to worry that you'd never wake up. Then I wouldn't be able to have any fun."

"Where's…the Joker…?"

She laughed and did a cartwheel across the room. "Not here, Batsy. He's still back at our little love-nest sleeping and gettin' better. I had to send good ole Poke to help the boys look after him while I deal with you."

"So then…?"

"That's right, B-man. This will just be between you and me."

His eyes widened, trying to understand the almost-tender purr to her voice. It was as if she were in Heaven right now, surging with euphoria at the thought of hurting him.

"Tell me, Quinn, what are you trying to accomplish by killing me? What could you possibly get from it?"

Her eyes glimmered. "Revenge. Revenge for hurting my Puddin'. Revenge for standing in his way."

"I'm not talking about what the _Joker_ is going to get out of this. I'm asking what _you're _going to get out of this."

Her grin faded slightly and her eyebrows creased slightly. For a moment, it was as if she had forgotten the reason…as if it had completely fled from her mind. For a brief second, she felt lost and scared, like a child that has been called up to speak in front of the class.

But then it came to her and she grinned again. "Once I kill you…once you're dead and rotting in the ground, I will have truly become free. Don't you think that there's a reason why I took the time to drag you here? It is because I'm savoring every minute leading up to your demise. And once I kill you, I will have fully become like _him_. You get to be the one who will be my first real kill—the one to completely push me over the edge. Isn't that an honor?"

She roared with laughter until she was shaking. "You've been trying so hard to help me, yet you'll be the one to totally corrupt me!" Her breathing was hard and ragged as she howled and chuckled.

The Batman kept silent, staring at her with his dark, solemn eyes. It annoyed her somewhat and she took out her knife and pointed it in the direction of his face, so that it was only inches away. "Your sorry life ends tonight, Batsy. I'm going to remove your mask and slit your throat ever-so-slowly. And then me and Mr. J will be free to live as we please as rulers of Gotham."

"You and the Joker?"

"We'll just bump off dear old Commissioner G and the mayor and then claim the city as our own. It's gonna be absolutely glorious! We'll be together forever and ever and we'll have lots of kids and we'll dance together every night. It'll be happily ever after and-"

Then her dreamy rambling was interrupted by an eerie sound, a sound that brought chills down her spine.

The Batman was laughing. Not a regular, ordinary laugh, but a laugh that could have only come from the mouth of a demon. It was a laugh that made her heart tremble with fear and caused her to take a step back.

"What's so funny?" she asked icily after regaining some of her composure. "Hey! What the hell are you laughing about?"

"You're an utter fool, Quinn. You honestly think that killing me will bring you all of that? The Joker doesn't love you. He never has and never will. Men like him don't love. You're just his tool…a rapid dog that he took in to be used for fighting. You mean nothing to him."

She took another step back, her lower lip trembling slightly. "No…no, that's not true! You're lying! He…he and I…we…I'm…"

"… Just another pawn. Another meaningless piece to his unsolvable puzzle. He's played you, Quinn. He's manipulated your emotions and molded you into becoming the person you claim you are now. And when he's done with you, you'll die at his hands."

"NO!" She screamed, holding her throbbing head. "That isn't true! I know him! I've seen who he really is! When he kidnapped me…it wasn't just a coincidence. It was _fate_. We were destined for each other. He…he loves me…"

_Mr. J and her on the rooftops. Mr. J stroking her hair and calling her 'his dearest pet'. Mr. J tickling her, making her laugh…_

"The Joker kidnapped you because he was bored and wanted a new plaything. He wanted to see what would happen if he took a normal every-day good-natured doctor and turn her into his mindless, fawning puppet."

_Mr. J sleeping beside her, rocking her in his arms, whispering in her ear…_

"You were never destined to be with him. It was all blind luck. One day, he'll grow bored with you and you'll mean even less to him than you do now."

_Mr. J pinning her down to the bed while he slid into her, filling her with pleasure as he purred and playfully nipped at her…_

"This is reality, Harleen."

_Mr. J comforting her, listening to her personal despairs, encouraging her talents…_

"For you and him, there is no happily ever after."

_Mr. J wrapping an arm around her, keeping her warm from all the coldness that the world had to offer. Mr. J kissing her gently, allowing her to nuzzle him. Mr. J crying in her arms and calling out to the unknown woman named Jeannie. Mr. J telling her that she was his girl. Mr. J in the morning, afternoon, and evening. Mr. J now and forever. Mr. J…._

"He will never love you."

And tears began to well up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, smearing her war-paint. Her heart ached and she brought her hand to her head, sobbing like a child. Her shoulders trembled and she turned away, covering her face from him.

_Puddin'…is he right? Is that what you truly feel about me?_

The thought made her cry harder, feeling the tears sting her eyes until her vision blurred. She was trapped in a world of despair as doubt hung over her heart like a dark fog, making her chest hurt.

_Mr. J…would he really…NO! NO! NOnononononono! HE CAN'T BE TRUE!_

She wiped her eyes and turned back to face the bound man, glaring at him hatefully. "You're WRONG! Mr. J _LOVES_ me! He loves me! _You're _the reason behind everything!" Smiling deliriously, she whipped out her knife again and pointed it at him. "I'm going to kill you, Batsy. I'm going to end your life tonight and you're not going to stop me. You're going to die!"

She tipped her head back and screamed wild laughter, feeling her head spin crazily. "And then me and my Puddin' will be sooooo happy! Happy happy happy! Always…!"

She charged forward, ready to rip off his cowl and slit his throat, ready to be showered with his blood, ready to finally be free to be happy with the man she loved.

And then the doors slammed open and all hell was about to break loose.


	20. Rage

_**(Hours ago…)**_

The Joker rustled uncomfortably in his bed, scratching at his casts and grumbling. His arm and leg had pretty much healed up by now so why weren't they off? He was utterly sick of hobbling around like a drunken hobo and he was sick of being in bed all day.

He needed some action. He was ravenous for it.

Sniffing, he sat up and scratched his head, surveying the empty room around him. Odd. Usually, Harley was there watching him, trying to coax him into eating something or giving her some cuddle-time.

But now, looking at how empty and cold the room was, he felt irritated. Harley was nowhere to be seen. How fucking wonderful. It was nighttime now and he needed some attention after lounging in bed all day.

So where the hell was she?

Muttering under his breath, he attempted to sit up and scratch at his leg-cast. He didn't need it anymore and if Harley wasn't around to take it off, he would do it himself. He removed the cast and flung it across the room, doing the same to the one on his arm. Moving his arm and leg, he felt a twinge better.

The handle on the door made a jostling sound and he grinned slightly, anticipating Harley entering through the door at any moment. But his grin faded when it turned out to be Rocco and Henshaw.

"Boss! Your casts are off!"

"Damn straight. I was sick of them."

They both looked really nervous, almost as if they were sick with fright. It irked him.

"Um, so are you hungry, boss? Do you need anything?"

"Where the hell is Harley? I haven't seen her all day."

Rocco turned pale and Henshaw twisted his fingers around in his hand. "She's uh…out."

"Out where? Doing what?"

"Um…uh…it's sort of a surprise."

He glared at them, watching as they squirmed in discomfort. A sort of irritated fury was beginning to well up within him, though he wasn't completely sure of what. Licking the scars on the sides of his cheeks, he stood up and towered over them, not caring about the soreness in his newly-healed leg.

"Where. Is. She."

They were both sweating now, trembling in fear. Rocco was at a loss for words and couldn't reply. Seeing this, Joker grabbed Henshaw and held him roughly by the throat, watching the way Rocco's eyes widened as he watched his cousin suffer.

"Tell me where she is and what she's doing or Henshaw gets to go to the great carnival in the sky to meet all the other fools I've put up with. Tell me, Rocco."

And Rocco did, choking out the words as he spoke.

For a minute, the Joker said nothing at all. He simply stared into space, releasing Henshaw all the while, and letting the pieces all come together. Then something snapped. With a livid roar, he shoved both men roughly to the floor, charging past them towards the door.

"That little _idiot_!"

Cutter and Poke gasped as he past them, growling low in his throat like a crazed animal. "Boss?"

Poke hung back, not daring to try to stop him. But Cutter followed his boss and attempted to call out to him.

"Boss! Don't hurt her! Please don't hurt her!"

The Joker said nothing and charged out the door, leaping into their van and speeding off with a violent scream of tires surging through the pavement.

The storm had arrived at last in full-fury. And there was nothing stopping it now.


	21. The Cruelest Blow of All

"Puddin'!"

Lowering her knife from the Batman's throat, Harley squealed like a giddy child and ran to him; her arms open wide for an embrace. The Joker let out an angry snarl and whacked her straight in the face, sending her tumbling backwards onto the floor.

"What. Are. You. Doing?"

She stared up at him nervously, her white-painted face turning even whiter. "I w-was planning on s-surprising you, Mr. J. I was gonna k-kill the Batman for ya so that you w-won't have to be bothered by him no more."

"You **idiot**!"

Mr. J growled and aimed a kick at her, making her shriek and roll away in fear. Shakily, she got to her feet and blinked in confusion, trying to understand why her beloved was so angry with her. In the background, the Batman was shifting around in his chains, almost as if her were trying to get loose from them.

"What do ya mean, Puddin'? Don't you want to finally rid yourself of the only guy that can stop you? I mean, isn't he the one who's been ruining your plans and everything?"

He snarled and licked his lips, glaring icily at her. "I don't make _plans_, my dear." He tilted his head slightly and looked over at the chained man. "And I have no intention of killing off dear old Batsy just yet. Where would I be without my incorruptible greatest opponent, hm? Where would I be without the very man who makes everything I do just so damned fun?"

A low whimper escaped Harley's throat as she stared from Mr. J to the Batman. Her baby-blue eyes were filled with confusion, trying to piece everything together. This was not going how she had planned. She had never expected her Mr. J to be so infuriated.

She offered him an uneasy, sheepish smile, trying to find warmth in those cold eyes of his. "But don't you want to claim Gotham City as your own? Don't you want to no longer have to get beaten up by the Bat every time you try to do things your way? Puddin', if I kill him we can end everything."

His glare seemed to get even colder. "The Batman is the other side of my coin. The yin to my yang. Why would I want to plunge Gotham so beautifully into chaos right now when I can have the perfect adversary to tango with?"

"But—but what about you and me? Aren't we going to rule Gotham together, Puddin'?"

He licked his lips again. "You've disappointed me, Harley. You were going to ruin everything."

Her eyes grew wide and welled up with tears. "I'm sorry, Puddin'! I didn't want to make you mad!"

"I once told the Bat that we were bound to fight forever. And here you are about to kill him off. And what's more, it looks like you were actually going to bother with seeing who he _is_," he gave a nod at the cracked cowl. "That's a stupid move. I'd never want to find out. It makes things more fun. But you were really about to do it. I'm so, so disappointed."

Harley was in despair. Her eyes stared at the chained man leaning against the wall, almost pleading with him to just disappear and make everything normal again. Her hands were balled into fists and were trembling. Her lower lip was quivering and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked like she was on the verge of going into shock. The knife she had been holding had dropped to the ground.

With shaking knees, she came forward slightly. "Please don't be disappointed in me, Mr. J. I just wanted to make you happy."

"You were going to kill him," Mr. J said in a quiet, rage-filled voice. "You were about to end all my fun. You stupid, impulsive twit."

"I'm s-sorry!" she sobbed. "Please, Puddin'! I'm so, so sorry!"

He came forward; his eyes red with fury. She took a step back, unknowingly getting closer towards a giant window of glass behind her. The building they were in was three stories high.

Very slowly, he took out his knife. "I'm sorry too, my girl."

Seeing the knife, her eyes widened and she took another step back, trembling as he came closer. "Puddin'—please!"

"You've disappointed me, Harl. And you know what happens to girls that disappoint me."

"Mr. J…I love you. Mr. J…" Another step back.

"I thought you were special, my pet. I thought I taught you well enough about the joke. But it looks like you just didn't get it after all." Another step. The window was only inches away.

"Puddin' PLEASE!"

"**Don't call me Puddin'!**"

With a violent shove, he pushed her into the window.

For a moment, everything went quiet. The sound of shattering glass was as silent as the scream she made when she began to feel herself falling. As the world whizzed past her in her plummet down, voices whispered to her in her head, calling out to her from her memories.

"_A smile makes all the bad things go away. Come on, doc. Let's see a smile on that pretty face of yours."_

"_We've both been outcasts, you and me. We've been hiding in the shadows and scrounging around for something to live for. We've both lived empty lives."_

_"Why don't you ever feel like talking about yourself? Don't you know that you're not going to be rejected here? What you say matters to me."_

The tears in her eyes stung as she felt herself falling. Her body was limp and couldn't move. The pain in her chest burned like fire.

"_You're my sweet little harlequin, my favorite hostage, my dearest pet."_

_"Don't ever lose that laugh of yours, Harley. It's just too pretty of a thing to lose. Always keep that laugh with you 'til the day you die."_

"_Harley…my Harley-girl…"_

A loud crash was heard as her body collided with the earth, falling on top of some trash cans that riddled the alley. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her mouth and her left arm twitched. Her eyes were shut and a low moan escaped her lips as she felt the agony of her poor, broken body.

She felt like such a fool.

XxX

The Joker stared down at the wounded girl below for a long moment, breathing in roughly through his nose. Briefly, he shut his eyes and paused, almost as if he were drinking in what he had just done. Then he turned back towards the Batman and grinned.

"Hey, Batsy-boy. Long time no see. Sorry about that mild inconvenience."

The Batman, in that horrible witnessing of violence, had frozen, staring at the incident with wide eyes. With the Joker now grinning at him, he felt almost frightened. To her credit, Harley had actually gotten really close to killing him. The chains were hard to break free from and she had had him trapped and helpless to fight back. In a strange way, she had actually come closer to defeating him than anyone else ever had.

The Joker skipped over and inspected him, poking at his cracked cowl. "Looks like ole Harls roughed you up pretty good. Now what do you think I should do with you?"

"Why did you do that to her?" the Batman said in a low voice. "Why did you hurt her like that? You went to all the trouble to make her your most devoted follower and then you shattered her as if she meant nothing to you."

The Joker frowned and pulled out his knife, flicking it in front of the Batman's face. "Harley is an idiot. She doesn't know how to play with you properly. And really, I'd say that you're more reserved for me than you are for her. She really shouldn't try to do my job if she doesn't know how to do it."

Then the Batman smirked, making the Joker pause and step back a little. "It's funny, Joker. She came a lot closer to killing me than you ever did. You say that she doesn't know how to be as dangerous as you when in fact she was doing your job even _better _than you."

"Shut up…"

"I'd say that she deserves some credit for being the one that came close to actually finishing me. Don't you think, _Puddin'_?"

The Joker slammed his fist into the Batman's face. Roaring like a wild animal, he threw the man across the room. It was just what the Batman was hoping for. The impact had caused the chains around his arms to loosen. If he worked at it without the Joker noticing, he could get free.

The Joker towered over him, gritting his teeth in fury.

"Bastard. I'm going to kill you." The knife in his hand seemed to be itching to tear through the Batman's flesh.

But then, to the Batman's surprise, the clown's face grew calm and a grin returned back to his lips.

"No, I don't think I'm going to end it all now, Batsy. It's too soon. I'd be a hypocrite to Harley if I did that now. And besides, my ride is on the way as we speak. They're awfully concerned about me and I know that they've been searching high and low for me."

The sound of a helicopter began to drift closer and closer towards the open window, making the Joker cock his head and chuckle slightly. "And speak of the devil…"

"Boss! Let's go! Come on! The cops are on their way!"

"Be with you in a moment, boys," he said, giving them a wave. He patted the Batman on the cheek. "Sorry I've got to run, Batsy. Looking at those chains of yours, I'd say that you're close to breaking free. So I'll just leave you to do your own thing. Let's meet again sometime, 'kay?"

With a laugh, the Joker walked casually away from the fuming man, climbing aboard the helicopter where an anxious Cutter was waiting for him.

"Where's Harley?"

"…"

"Boss…please tell me you didn't…"

"She was going to ruin everything, Cutter. She didn't get the joke."

"No…not Harley…no…"

"Come on," the clown snapped at Rocco, who was piloting. "Let's go. Can't you see that Batsy is beginning to break free over there? Come on!"

The copter began to lift higher until they were decidedly away from the building. Cutter was massaging his forehead in his hands. "Boss…why did you do it? Didn't she mean something to you?"

The war-painted scarred man stared silently into the distance, almost contemplating.

"She did it all for you, boss. She did it because she loved you…"

"Hush," he replied. "I don't want to talk about it." There was something sad in his voice. "Besides, she's still alive."

XxX

The caped man with the cracked cowl lowered himself into the alley-way, finally free from the chains that bound him. It was dark and the moon's light felt cold and depressing.

He cursed himself for not breaking free in time to stop the Joker from escaping. Now that the clown was healed, it meant that they would be seeing each other again very soon—costing many innocent lives in the process.

A low groan was heard at the end of the alleyway and he ran towards it instinctively. He could smell blood on the ground and he squinted in the darkness.

And there she lay: Harleen Quinzel on top of several trashcans, bleeding and whimpering.

He rushed to her side and stared down at her. Her blonde pigtails were now free and her hair spilled in a mess. Some strands were red from the blood. Her eyes were shut and wet with tears, causing the dark markings under her eyes to stain her cheeks. Reaching forward to inspect her, he discovered that she had broken her right arm and both her legs. She probably had also broken a few ribs as well. But despite this she was still miraculously alive and breathing.

He stared at the girl in sympathy, gently lifting her head to face him. Most of the war-paint had smeared off her face and it was as if she was a completely different person. She was now just a poor, wounded girl that was shivering and whimpering from the pain—both physical and emotional.

One of her eyes opened a fraction of an inch and he blinked, staring into it and reading the sadness that lurked within it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

In the distance, he could hear police sirens coming closer and closer. Without a moment's pause, he scooped the girl up in his arms and placed her further out into the light where he knew they would see her. Then he went up to the roof and watched in the shadows as they all ran to the girl's side.

There were many voices, some saying things like "Call an ambulance!" or "Oh, Jesus Christ, look at her!" or "What the Hell happened?". He even heard Gordon's voice, stern and soft, telling his men to inspect the area.

_And that means that I must leave now. Perhaps I can try to pick up on Joker's trail now. _

So he vanished into the gloom of the night, taking one last look at the broken harlequin that was now being lifted onto a stretcher as the ambulance's lights flashed. He hoped that she'd be alright. This was a lesson to all who chose to follow the Joker. He just prayed that this was enough to finally bring her back into the light.

As they lifted her towards the back of the ambulance, her lips parted slightly and her eyes opened half-way.

"Lie still," the medic told her gently. "You'll be alright."

"My fault," she murmured softly. "I didn't get the joke…"


	22. Regret and Recovery

The Arkham Asylum medical wing was awfully gentle to her. They had patched-up her wounds and wrapped up her arm and broken legs in casts. To their credit, they had done a fine job in keeping her alive and repairing her body.

But they couldn't repair her heart.

She had spent days in a nightmarish slumber, tossing and moaning as she relived the horrible incident again and again—the shove, the scream, and the merciless fall from the window. Sometimes, if she lay really quietly, she could hear him laughing at her in the darkness. She knew that it was all in her head, but it still made her ache and squirm in discomfort.

She had loved Mr. J madly and blindly. She had done everything she could to please him and everything she could to try to earn affection from him. And here she was: stuck at Arkham Asylum with everyone treating her injuries and shaking their heads.

Despite the nourishing food and the medicine and the constant care, she still felt hollow, empty.

He had thrown her out a window. He had almost killed her, just as she had almost killed the Batman.

The thought brought tears to her eyes and she'd spend hours sobbing under the covers of her bed, whimpering as she felt her heart breaking.

_Puddin'…why?_

Sometimes, while sitting up in bed and staring listlessly out into space, she'd go back to the memory of the first time they kissed—the hot, wonderful sensation that had surged through her as she felt his lips meet hers. She remembered the love she had felt for him, strong and pure and unconquerable. She remembered the night they had made love; his arms around her while he spilled into her, her heart fluttering madly in her chest as she felt the pleasure seep in between her legs. It was a night of pure bliss.

Those memories were like poison to her now. They stung her heart and she tried to flee from them in her sleep. But whenever she woke up, they returned to her, bringing the despair back to her.

Most of the time, she tried to ignore them and took to looking out the window and pretending she were somewhere else.

Once she was deemed strong enough, they moved her into her own private cell, telling her that she could now heal herself up and go forward with curing herself and rejoining society.

Rejoining society?

How could she when she had been so abused and broken? Her heart was shattered and her spirit was crushed. How could they ever expect her to rejoin the very society that she had fought against?

She spent most of her days sleeping, occasionally having a dull conversation with her new shrink (who was decidedly a very boring man), and crying alone under the covers. Eventually, they prescribed her some anti-depressant medication that she found was useful for dulling the pain.

As her body began to heal up, she could feel herself beginning to look back at the past and feel remorse for some of the things she had done. She had made a mistake in trying to kill the Batman.

And maybe…she had made a mistake in falling for someone like the Joker.

The thought made her heart ache and her eyes well up, but perhaps it was true. Love had caused all of this. Because she had loved so blindly, she had suffered and had caused others to suffer.

So she began to wonder if there really was a chance for her to go back to the way things used to be before she met him…back to being gentle Harleen Quinzel. It was an intriguing thought and it stayed with her, giving her a tiny spark of hope.

Some nights she'd wake up calling out to him, begging him to give her another chance. Other nights, she'd feel herself falling into a pit of darkness, clawing desperately at the air.

Yes, he had damaged her. He had brought her pain and sorrow. So did she really still want him?

_No, I don't think so. Not now. I don't want love anymore. I just want some peace. I want to be someplace safe and warm and nice…someplace where I don't have to be hurt anymore…_

That sounded good. She could live on that. Perhaps, she could serve her time honestly and without complaint and then she could return to the real world and find a place like that. She could find a place without guns or pain or windows to be pushed out of.

_I think that's what I'll do. I'll get out of here eventually and go find a place like that. I WILL. _

But all the while, some part of her was still calling out to the Joker, still aching for him. Perhaps it would always ache for him, maybe until the day she died.

_I was wrong for loving him so much. I was wrong for trying to hurt people and daring to think that I was as dark-hearted as he was. Mr. J—I mean, the Joker is dangerous. I realize that now. I just hope that maybe I can change back to who I was for the better. _

She knew that she had many trials ahead of her. But for now, she would get herself healed up and try to start anew.

To be Harleen Quinzel again was actually not that bad of an idea.


	23. Forever His

**(DISCLAIMER-Lyrics used for this chapter to not belong to me. I don't own them.)**

With each passing day, Harley felt herself getting stronger and stronger

Sometimes, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham visited her. They never really said much to each other but she couldn't say that she didn't somewhat enjoy his company. She didn't really see him as an enemy anymore—just this sympathetic doctor that she had known once upon a time that came to see her.

It seemed that she was changing more and more as time passed. Her hair was beginning to turn brown again and she felt much calmer. Even though her thoughts were still dark and regretful, she could feel them beginning to cloud as Mr. J's face got hazier and hazier.

Perhaps it was the medication she was taking? Maybe. But it didn't matter. She didn't want to think about him.

She found herself thinking a lot more clearly. Things around her were beginning to become more coherent. Her nightmares were beginning to settle down and her legs were healing up pretty fast. Even her arm, which was healing a bit slower, was starting to feel better. Eventually, she could move around without a wheelchair or crutches, limping slightly but recovering her ability to walk. Dr. Arkham told her that her legs would be fine in a month or so.

So Harleen Quinzel was returning little by little, slowing down her thoughts and bringing that shy, timid smile back with her. She didn't smile that much though; it hurt to smile. She supposed it was because what had happened to her but she tried her hardest every day to put one on her face.

At one point, she had taken the time to examine herself in the mirror and to her amazement, she looked completely different. Her eyes had lost that dangerous look to them and appeared rounder and softer. Her bruises were fading and her features had become gentler.

_So this is what life without the Joker feels like…_

And a sad smile stretched on her face.

XxX

She lay on her cot one night and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her own breathing. It could get pretty lonely at night in Arkham Asylum. There was really only the sound of the other patients muttering in their sleep to keep her company.

_Still, perhaps there's something peaceful about it…something quiet and calm_.

It was like a lullaby, a soft, almost eerie sort of tranquility that allowed her to relax.

In the darkness, she closed her eyes and saw faces in her head, swirling before her; her mother's familiar stony-faced glare, Cutter's empathetic gentleness, Poke's mischievous grin, the cousins' concern and supportiveness.

_And Mr. J…?_

His face was fading away in her mind like the morning fog.

Frowning slightly, she rolled over and curled up into a tight ball. She felt cold. Even with a blanket tightly draped around her, she felt cold. Was that natural?

_It's my imagination. That's all._

Shutting her eyes again, she tried to sink into slumber. She needed some sleep if she was going to have a morning session tomorrow.

_I need to be as rested as possible. It'll help me recover faster. I can't convince them to let me back into society all tired and cranky. That wouldn't do. _

Slowly, she felt herself beginning to fade away from consciousness, returning back into her warm, safe dreamland where there was nothing to regret. The nightmares couldn't touch her there. Just quietness and peace and—

There was a loud bang and the lights flickered. Harley instantly sat up on her cot and gasped, feeling the walls shake. The sound of gunfire filled the air and her eyes widened. Shifting uncomfortably with her healing legs, she huddled in her cot and cowered as she listened to the sound of struggling guards being wounded in the background.

_What on earth is going on?_

The sound of heavy footsteps, running down the cell-block, coming closely towards her cell and pausing. Afraid, she shut her eyes and cowered.

"This one," said a muffled voice from behind the glass. "She's here."

Instantly, there was another loud bang and the glass shattered into millions of pieces as what appeared to be a bazooka was fired into it. Harley shrieked and fell onto the ground, coughing from the smoke and still not opening her eyes.

Then a single set of feet walked slowly over towards where she lay. She trembled and covered her face with her good arm, not wanting to see.

"Hey, kid," a familiar voice purred softly. "It's been a while."

Her eyes shot open instantly. Mr. J stood before her, grinning and giggling low under his breath. His face was streaked with his usual war-paint and his hair was a mass of messy green tangles. Behind him, Cutter and the others blinked at her, staring into her confused face.

"Mr. J?"

"Looks like you've learned your lesson. Poor Harley had to stay in this dump for so long. A pity. But I'm here to take you back home, Harl. Daddy's missed you."

He put a hand on her shoulder and she recoiled from his touch, backing up into the wall. "Stay away from me!"

"Why would I do that?"

She gritted her teeth and backed farther away, not wanting to meet his stare. "You tried to kill me. Everything you ever told me was a lie and I'm not your follower anymore."

"Is that so? _That's_ how it is? Don't tell me you're seriously going back to being the boring blind-woman you once were." He grabbed her face and held it firmly, staring into her eyes. "You're _mine_."

"No," she whimpered. "You're wrong. I've changed and I'm not like you."

He tilted back his head and screamed laughter, cackling in her face as she moaned in discomfort. "Harley, are you really still mad? Did you think that I'd abandon you like that? Don't be stupid."

Slowly, he rubbed off a bit of his white war-paint and gently smeared it on her cheek. "You know that you belong to me, my pet. You always will."

Her eyes widened and she tried to curl up into a tiny ball, trying to keep her thoughts and emotions stable. His breath was hot in her ear, purring into it seductively.

"What happened is in the past. All there is to know is that you are my Harley Quinn. Mine and no one else's." His mouth was dangerously close to hers.

"But…but I…" Their lips, so close. Harleen Quinzel was beginning to fade again.

"Come back with me, Harl. Come back with me, my pet."

Closing her eyes, their lips met and she felt the familiar warmth rush back into her heart. She still loved him and always would until the end of time itself. Already, him pushing her out a window had become nothing more than a hazy memory, a fading wisp of a nightmare that was vanishing from her mind completely.

When their lips parted, it was gone and she was Harley Quinn again—in love and willing to do whatever he asked of her now and forever.

"Puddin'," she said breathlessly as she timidly nuzzled up to him. "I'm sorry…"

He grinned and petted her head. "We need to get going, kiddo. There are still more guards to take care of before we blow this taco stand. Shall we get going?" Licking his lips, he extended an arm to get her to her feet. Smiling, she took it and he led her out of the cell that had contained her for so many months.

Harley would barely recollect the pandemonium that followed. The only thing she knew was that she had made her choice. There was no going back now and there never would be. She was his once again.

A through the gunfire and chaos and cries of pain, Harley Quinn clung to her man and laughed.

XxX

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_

_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_

_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound_

_I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground_

-Lyrics by Florence and the Machine

_**A/N- So concludes story number two for the Until We Bleed Series. I hoped you all enjoyed it.**_

_**For those of you wondering, this story is indeed heavily influenced by the glorious Mad Love comic that was written by Paul Dini and Bruce Timm. If you've never read it, I strongly recommend it because it truly is the epitome of a good Harley story.**_

_**I'd like to thank all my reviewers who took the time to critique or comment on my work. You all are the best and I hope you keep reading because I really enjoy your messages.**_

_**And the story doesn't stop here, people. COMING SOON- 7 KETTLES, the third installment of the series and the introduction of the relationship between Harley and Ivy. I've been really looking forward to writing it since I first started the series so I sincerely hope y'all will stick around. **_

_**-Cat**_


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